


The Boogeyman's Lullaby

by Anonymity (MischiefJoKeR)



Series: The Boogeyman's Lullaby [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BlackIce eventually, Comfort/Angst, Creepy, Creepy Pitch, Creepypasta, Developing Relationship, Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Smut, Foreshadowing, Humor, Jack has problems, M/M, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), One True Pairing, Original Character(s), Pitch stop being crabby, Plot, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build, Urban Fantasy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 82,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischiefJoKeR/pseuds/Anonymity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson Overland was never one for social interactions, and preferred to spend his time in front of a computer monitor. Known by his distant digital friends as Frost, he remains a mysterious trickster on a keyboard. But everything takes a turn for the worse when he receives a mysterious e-mail from Anon: The Boogeyman’s Lullaby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frost

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: AU/Canon Divergence/Alteration, Eventual BlackIce, Strong Language, Plotty-plotness with OC cameos  
> Given the nature of this fic, some pictures may or may not be used in the future. We'll see. Please enjoy!

The typing of keys filled the room as Jack entered his own world. This world was filled with tantalizing facts, hidden secrets, and assortments of cat videos. And he couldn’t be any more content.

Most college freshman were enjoying being brought up into the college-kid lifestyle of parties and companionship. Not Jackson Overland. Loud get-togethers and the over-familiarity with numerous people didn’t sit well with him. He’d been among the company of few people as long as he remembered, namely his mother and little sister. But he was much older than his sister, and didn’t see her very often given his minute social calendar.

 Jack would rather spend his time on other social media websites, like Tumblr, 4chan, and Youtube. Some called him a troll; others: a quick-witted user that would be sure to appear and comment at the appropriate time.

To his few digital companions, he was Frost. And that was all they needed to know.

The anonymity the internet brought was something of a warm comfort over him, like his favorite hoodie fresh out of the dryer. Comfort was something he was lacking, but not needed. He didn’t need physical companionship. He loved to mouth off in his classes, definitely, but there was no person he wanted to speak to about his personal matters. They wouldn’t understand his references, his jokes, his quirks. At least with the use of words, he couldn’t be questioned for his reasoning. It was the internet, and that meant all sorts of people were to be expected.

A small ping drew his attention to his task bar where the Skype icon flashed orange. He clicked and got a small grin as bright as the laptop screen in his darkened room at the name of the sender. Myth has stuck by him as a follower on Tumblr, liking his reblogs and sharing his posts. Eventually asks were sent regarding the main fandoms Jack was involved in, which at the time was Left 4 Dead. Jack amazed himself with the conversation, being as witty as Frost and even the slightest bit smarmy, but Myth stuck around. They played a few co-op games on Steam, though Jack left his microphone on mute for the first several encounters.

Myth was the only one to know his voice. The only one Jack may have favored amongst his faceless followers. It was thanks to Myth’s shares that he’d gained even more followers, fans if you will. They were a small bunch, but Jack liked how it was exclusive. He liked Myth. He felt he could dissect everything about him even a world apart. He knew what could send him (he had learned) giggling and mashing his keys in excitement, typos to follow. He knew never to tell him spoilers of a movie he’d pirated. He knew that whenever he found some urban legend or creepypasta, Myth would have always known about it first, and recited his own theory as if he studied the subject for years.

For someone off of the internet, Myth was intelligent.

**_Hey Frost. Seems we’re both having a great Friday night, huh?_ **

Jack chuckled. Was it Friday already? That meant his Psychology exam was on Monday. But that could be sorted out at a later time. Like four in the morning.  He typed up his response rapidly, having aced his keyboarding capabilities.

_You know it. Obviously we’re both out getting hammered with the best young individuals society has to offer._

Myth usually took his time when typing, so Jack reopened Chrome to browse. Tumblr was a bit slow as of lately, his dash only being flooded with generic ‘Share if you’ posts. Youtube hadn’t fared much better. He’d watched his subscription’s daily uploads already, and there were only so many good Youtube Poops to browse through before feeling the brain numb. 4chan, well…there was always the promise of another board. A saving grace of an exhaustingly slow virtual life was his hobby for writing. Whenever he felt bored, or up for multi-tasking, there was always some writing prompt generator to kickstart him.

Writing wasn’t entirely a serious hobby, but he had nothing else he considered himself good at. So why not continue.

Skype blinked again.

**_Yeah, exactly. From what you say about the kids in your dorm I can imagine how great it is to have a quiet night at least once a week._ **

Jack nodded slowly. Myth knew he was entering college, because they were the same age. Jack would almost always reply to any message that was sent to him swiftly, and had to explain himself if he was late. It was another Friday that a clamoring in his hall late in the night from his drunken dorm mates that distracted him for the moment.

Still, Myth just knew how old he was. There was nothing else really to it.

As he started to reply, Myth was already typing a second message. He drummed his fingers on the surface of his laptop, being patient, sure that once he’d click away the message would come.

**_I read up on this new indie horror coming out. Want the link?_ **

_What’s it about?_

 

This was their friendship. And things were good.

 

* * *

 

Hours passed as normal. 4chan brightened up in the thickness of the night, and by brightened, Jack usually meant became sick, demented, and equally fascinating to watch humanity be pulled apart by the seams. Myth had shared the indie, which looked promising, but there were only so many preview trailers for it and the topic was dropped soon enough. They shifted on to other Steam games that were coming out, reblogging Tumblr links, and cooperatively answering retarded Tumblr hate mail in the most eloquently humorous way possible. It was the best fun he’d had that night, his fingers jittering excitedly on the keys and a grin surely on his face. Frost liked his stature on the internet, however minute an impact he made on the other users.

Black images started to appear on Imgur, a website only worth frequenting some of the time in Jack’s opinion. The teenager yawned, realizing that many of the black images were reshared over and over, but were also from how often his eyes had started to drift shut. He groaned, seeing the digital clock at the corner of his screen reading 4:52 a.m. and sighed outwardly. With nothing keeping his active attention, he’d become tired. Jack always needed to be doing something, even sitting in front of the screen. He was eating some pretzel sticks in Nutella sometimes, and today he was twirling his earbuds in his fingers until they twisted, and then spun them in the opposite direction, repeating.

He checked his conversation with Myth. Last response: 23 minutes ago. He rolled his eyes, thinking of himself smiling, unconscious to whether he actually did or not. Myth definitely had fallen asleep in the middle of a good theory, surely. Gradually, Jack began to close his tabs, reblog one last gif of a bunny (the late nights usually meant he reblogged irresistibly fluffy things in his groggy state), and lastly, check his e-mails.

He deleted a few that alerted him of his Youtube subscriptions updating, and couple Gamestop and Steam sale alerts following soon after. He read through a couple from fanfiction websites—a hobby he kept separate from his Frost persona, before deleting those as well as they were simple “new follower” alerts. His Tumblr account was silent of news, but he deleted the old ones alerting him to a new ask in his inbox. He really needed to update his settings and remove that option.

Finally with that done, he hovered over the shut down button. He stopped, looking at the notepad extension on his desktop. It mostly kept important dates, which were usually related to when he needed to update a story, or when homework was due.

“Before Saturday Night- Turn in Psyche paper”

Jack sighed. He’d completely forgotten to submit that. Thankfully, he had the thing written the day after it was assigned. He was terrible with remembering dates, especially with the college’s online document procedure. He reopened Chrome to the school services and went about submitting his word document after one last look-over. He hit send.

Instantly he knew his school e-mail would be assaulted by the annoying messages of “congratulations, you’re one step closer to having a future. Please click here to rate this assignment”. If there was one thing Jack despised, it was a full inbox, or rather: an inbox that was not empty or otherwise sorted.

Given he had the browser open, he skated along to the school e-mail, typing in his password swiftly, his brain not even registering the gesture as they’d repeated the code so many times it was instinct. He swiftly checked the box and deleted it.

**You have no messages.**

Jack smiled, stretching back in his creaky rolling chair, his jaw dropping into a well-needed yawn. Fingers ran through his course brunette hair, retaining its messy look at all times. He dropped his hands back into his lap, digging his phone out of his indigo hoodie pocket and setting it on his desk. He rarely charged it, given his family were the only ones to really have his number. It was otherwise used to check his Tumblr in class or listen to music during a lecture. He plugged it in regardless, having worn on its battery during a wonderful talk on something in History.

His phone made a small blip as it began charging, and he closed the pop-ups as soon as they appeared. _“No, I’m not interested at opening the files on this device,”_ Jack mused internally. The pop-ups disappeared, and his mouse skated to the red X in the corner of the browser. His eye caught something. Bold text in a horizontal line and a light blue hue behind the lettering.

**You have (1) unread message!**

He frowned. What had the school felt inclined to send him at nearly five in the morning? He was about to check the box when his hand froze.

 

Sender: Anon

Subject: For Jack, Room 281

 

 _“Why does the sender say Anon? Like, anonymous? This is my school e-mail, the records office knows my dorm number, but no one is sending messages from there now.”_ He thought, staring at the message. His brain whirled. He never shared his school e-mail, and the college was excellent at filtering junk mail. _“Some kind of automated response for holiday check outs or something.”_ Jack sighed. It was nearing the end of his first semester already, and winter would be upon the city soon.

Begrudgingly, he clicked the message, watching as it loaded. He raised an eyebrow. The recipient line was definitely just his e-mail, with no one else in the CC field. The message appeared blank, though he scrolled a line down.

_Forward this message, and see the picture below!_

Jack rolls his eyes, scrolling down further. A single line was in a simple font, bolded, large, and italicized.

**_Do not stray far from the light_ **

 

 

 

Several spaces followed afterwards, like someone leaving placeholders, or just being a bit trigger happy with the enter key. Below this was a rectangular image, but it was just plain black. Jack right clicked to see if it had loaded, which it had. Who sends a forward with a blank image like that? He scoffed, brain too tired to even think of reasons for why he’d received the message.

He scrolled down to the bottom of the e-mail. There was no signature, like the ones all the teachers had with detailed information. In fact, the signature was slightly more shocking.

 

Jackson Overland

14 Robin Dr (Home)

1500 University Dr

North Hall 281

 

 _“That’s my mom’s address back home. And that’s definitely the college’s information too.”_ Jack reread it once for good measure, and twice to hope his blurred, tired eyesight was playing tricks. _“What kind of person gets a school e-mail to send_ me _an e-mail with my info at the bottom?”_ No matter how many times his mind asked itself, he couldn’t draw a conclusion. No return address was listed for the user Anon, and the image was black even if he saved it to his desktop. He felt a shudder when he stared too long, and dragged it to the recycle bin, emptying that as well.

“This is the shittiest chain mail I’ve ever received.” Jack grumbled to convince himself. Even on Tumblr he refused to believe those old “send this along or be cursed” messages. Myth might have his own theory on them, but not Jack. All he knew was that it was bullshit, and the only form of trolling he would not find the slightest bit of merriment in.

He checked the box and deleted the message, finally shutting down his laptop. His room became encased with darkness, given he’d neglected to even turn on his lights as the sun set. He needed the sleep, and didn’t bother trying to set an alarm for the next day. He spun around in his chair with a squeak, tugging off his jeans to put on his more comfortable pajama pants. They were perfect to wear on a crisp fall Friday night (Or Saturday morning, more like).  He fumbled around at the window just to the side of his desk, tugging a curtain to the side just a fraction. A sliver of the mood gave him just enough light to find his way to bed without a stubbed toe. He didn’t even bother taking off his hoodie, already wrapped in its warmth and dropped down onto the sheets. He yawned once more, stuffing an arm under his pillow and laying on his side, a normal position for his sleeping habits. His deep caramel eyes drifted shut slowly, allowing the darkness behind his eyelids to finally take him, even with the surge of paranoia lingering in his mind.

 

* * *

 

_The darkness shifted through his vision as he entered the deepest state of his sleep. Jack stood, finding himself outside in the park nestled near his home back in Burgess. Trees littered the area, but did not hinder the place from having nice flat lands ideal for children’s games. Picnic shelters and benches were seen off in the distance, especially close to the small lake. Jack smiled. When he first saw that lake he knew it’d be great for ice skating. Winter was his favorite thing._

_He paced over to the edge of the lake. The edges were crystallizing, beginning to freeze in the chill night. Winter would be around soon enough, and then he could go ice skating. Did he really want to? Leaving his computer to go outdoors wasn’t something he frequently partook in. The only thing tantalizing the outdoors had to offer him was the chill wind against his pale skin, snow between his fingers, and the smell of pine trees. It was infatuating, but came with a price._

_Jack felt his breath leave him in a shudder. He always had a high tolerance for cold, but for whatever reason, his blood began to chill. The lake in front of him started to ice over before is eyes, branching out like frosty arms grabbing towards the center. Once they reached the middle crystalline structures sprang out into the sky, sending a shock through the air that ripped oxygen out of Jack’s throat. He fell back, fingers in the thin layer of snow just how he liked it, unable to tear his eyes away from the ice structure that would not stop moving up. It got to just be a pinpoint in the sky before shards began to rain down, starting small, and becoming icicles aimed down to skewer Jack._

_A scream tore out of his winded throat as he tried kicking himself out of the way of the spike. He tugged again and again before his eyes shifted down, ice encasing his ankles and wrists, black particles started to creep up its surface._

_Is it…sand?_

_He shut his eyes tightly as he practically felt the gravity of the spire above him getting closer and closer, preparing for impact._

The loud shattering of glass brought Jack sitting up in bed, his pillow tumbling to the floor. He gasped for air, as if he’d been drowning. He couldn’t get enough air.

It was chilly, and by getting his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, he saw his window, now with a nice hole in it from some kind of launched projectile. Shards of glass shimmered on his floor, but didn’t make it across to his bed or desk. He forced himself up to his knees to peer over the edge of his bed to the window. He was on second floor, and saw no silhouettes of a perpetrator down below.

It was good he liked the cold. The sun started to peek out from the horizon and Jack pushed his curtains shut, dropping back onto his bed, already asleep before he could notice he was without his pillow.


	2. Mythlegend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jack's nightmare still unsettles him, things get a little more unsettling and supernatural. He needs to consult an expert, though he won't admit to confiding in anyone.

 

Jack slowly opened his eyes in his bed. He still felt tired, but that was pretty normal, he’d found out. He’d had a long try-to-get-my-homework-done week and staying up until nearly dawn wasn’t going to help his stamina. He shivered slightly at discovering that the room had chilled significantly throughout the morning. He pushed his curtains away with his feet and groaned.

 _“Oh yeah, the window_.” Jack sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his hood flopping onto his shoulder blades. The sky was blotted with clouds and a cool wind, an obvious sign of cold weather about to come. Jack gingerly stepped out of bed and reviewed the damage in the light. The hole was about the size of a baseball, but splintered off in broken cracks over the rest of the glass. A couple large shards were over the floor as well as the small, barely visible fragments. _“This’ll be a pain in the ass.”_

Jack went about the business of scouring the dorm supply closets for a vacuum that actually worked and dragged it up the stairs. The larger shards he simply tossed in the bin, but the splinters were vacuumed up thoroughly.  _“I’ll need to file a maintenance report for that.”_  Jack thought as he got the mess sorted. After returning the vacuum to its closet, Jack went around investigating the room. Had someone thrown a rock up to his window? Even if he was on the second floor, it wasn’t implausible to occur. Though the more Jack found himself crawling around the floor, he didn’t see anything out of place in his small room.

It was a simple, cheap college room. A twin bed pushed up against the back right corner and a side table covered in spare change and other assorted items, as well as a lamp. A scratched up dresser was against the right wall, the top covered with old homework papers as well as his notebooks and textbooks. His desk was on the left wall and was surprisingly clean for how often he stayed by it, and his garbage bin just next to that, opportune to get rid of his snacks. The window was opposite the door, bathroom, and closet, though his closet was generally unused, only keeping his suitcases and winter gear out of the way. Even after digging through his laundry hamper, and throwing a mass of jeans and assorted tees into it, he deemed his room completely normal.

Nothing was normal about having a broken window and there being no cause for it. He let out an aggravated sigh. It was more of an inconvenience than anything, but something was just pressing in to the back of his mind. _What smashed my window?_ It was a nonstop barrage of this and varying versions. It’d take the school weeks to think that his request was meaningful enough to attract their attention. They were just lucky Jack didn’t really mind the cold.

He took one more sweep over of the room with his eyes before taking a seat at his desk, booting up the laptop. Even if a creepy dream had interrupted a normal night’s sleep, it wasn’t going to stop him from doing his usual Saturday routine, which was usually the same as the other days of the week. Nightmares weren’t entirely new to Jack, but he can’t specifically remember one as vividly as he did last night. When he was in middle school he found himself waking up suddenly, heart pounding, but determined there was no reason for the sudden jolt of adrenaline. That lake was familiar to him, every detail burned into his memory. The fact that it was that vivid in his dream was also burning into the back of his mind but he wouldn’t doubt that most dreams were in familiar places, giving him that sense of comfort before it was cruelly taken away.

He sighed and typed in his password in. He was thinking far too much into this.

Logging into his Tumblr page, he sighed as not much occurred at this hour. Speaking of it, he checked the time. Eleven in the morning. Jack raised an eyebrow. That might be a record for earliest he’s woken up on a Saturday. After Tumblr had nothing overly attaching to offer at the moment, he opened Skype and flicked through his contacts, though they were few in number. The only one that intrigued him was Myth, and he wasn’t awake yet. He loved sleeping in, and he wouldn’t doubt that he’d fallen asleep at the keyboard, and woke up early in the morning to resume his studies until he passed out again.

He drummed his fingers a little, before his left hand snaked over and got the cord of his earbuds. He started to spin them around over his fingers like he had many times before, usually while he was thinking. A particularly chilling gust of wind came in at that point, giving him shivers unexpectedly. _“Right, might as well get the report in while I remember.”_  He opened a new tab and logged into the school e-mail.

It was saved in his contacts automatically, thankfully, so navigating the school’s confusing main page wasn’t necessary. He gave the simplest of “Hey, last night something smashed a hole in my window. Glass is cleaned up, please fix ASAP.”  Jack was practically swallowing his tongue. He was so awful with formal communications. He read it over a few times, as if he had missed some kind of crucial detail, before finally hitting send and letting out a breath. Now to never have to communicate with them again— At least until they came knocking at his door. If anything, they wouldn’t get to it until everyone left for Christmas break. The e-mail window disappeared, and Jack about inhaled his tongue again.

 

**You have (1) new message!**

Sender: Anon

Subject: Read me, Jack

 

His heart gave a quick stutter, or it at least felt like it. He took in a breath and straightened in his chair. What the hell kind of anon is doing this? It was just an e-mail, repurposed and resent after the sender realized that the first one would’ve been deleted by this time. Regardless, Jack was face to face with the strangest emotion. _Fear._

It was an e-mail, a complete coincidence, a not-very-funny joke. There was no reason to be afraid of some pixel-constructed message that thousands if not more people were probably receiving personally in the same way he was. Yet it made something in the pit of his stomach twist and coil tumultuously in discomfort. Something was wrong, and it _scared_ him. He hadn’t even realized he brought himself to open the new message until it loaded in front of him.

 

**_Do not stray far from the light_ **

**_Shadows dwell in this domain_ **

 

 

**__ **

****

Jack quickly hit the delete icon above the image. He didn’t bother seeing if his contact information was at the bottom. He deleted his e-mail trash bin right afterwards as an after-thought.   _“What a weirdo.”_ He muttered and quickly closed his tab, sticking to Youtube.

The ping from Skype nearly made Jack leap from his chair in surprise. A half hour had already quickly passed thanks to the ten minute length videos his subscriptions posted. He mentally composed himself a little from the jump and opened the program.

**_Good morn-afternoon. Yeah I kind of passed out last night._**

_No problem, I kind of figured whatever legendary beast you were researching had just claimed you as its next victim._

**_How long have you been up?_**

_Not very. Maybe a half hour. You didn’t miss anything spectacular that might’ve happened._

**_Oh, good, considering my life just revolves around everything you do, Frost._**

_Damn right it does. What were you researching yesterday anyways?_

Jack didn’t disapprove of Myth’s strange hobby, he just thought it was a little quirky for someone his age. It was good at the same time, though. It gave Myth something to share with Jack that made him more and more curious. Jack considered himself pretty curious, even though he rarely sought adventure as much as his internet co-hort. 

 

**_I was more or less re-reading some older things. Mostly about waterhorses and European fae. The subject’s pretty cool. But I always end up finding the yeti page through Wikipedia._**

_They must be on to you then. Have you heard of any good internet myths lately? You know, like some virus leaving weirdo messages, mysterious chain e-mails. Something like that?_

**_Why do you ask?_ **

****

Jack swallowed tightly. What lead him to typing that kind of question? Sure, he wanted to find out about what kind of messages he’d been getting, but it wasn’t some urban legend that needed the Mythlegend expert himself.  What would he tell him? “Hey, I have some weird e-mails getting sent to me, has anyone else ever died from them?” No, that was ridiculous. The whole thinking-it’s-something-to-worry-about is even more ridiculous. Plus, he didn’t need help. He would not confide in anyone.

_Curious nature?_

**_Oh. Well, I haven’t really heard of anything. But if you have a lead, I want to be the first one to know!_**

_Don’t get too excited. But I’ll keep that in mind._

The chat went quiet, and Jack drummed his fingers on the desk. Did he say something wrong? Had he disappointed Myth that badly? He wasn’t sure, and he hated being unsure about the one person he thought he had completely dissected as a personality _. I guess that last line could’ve been pretty dismissive_. It didn’t have his usual sarcastic flare on the ends of the words. It was just cold. But maybe Myth was just distracted with catching up with the morning’s updates.

Jack flipped through Tumblr, rarely reblogging something of hilarious quality. He felt that sinking feeling of guilt deep in his gut. _Shake it off, Frost._ He told himself, but it still swirled around. Guilty for what? He muttered, annoyed for feeling this way for no reason, at least for a reason he wasn’t sure how to repair. After another fifteen minutes of silence, he reopened the conversation.

_Okay, maybe there is something…_

He sat back. The thorn in his side twisted a bit as Myth started to respond right away. So he had said something wrong. _Good going, Overland._

 

**_Something like what?_**

_One of those mysterious chain e-mail things. It’s probably nothing._

**_No way, bro. Spill the beans. I’ll be the judge if it’s nothing. Send me some links._**

_There aren’t any links. I already deleted everything._

**_So wait, you’re getting some weird chains? Like, directly?_ **

****

Myth was replying quickly, but the Skype icon showed he had to go back and fix his typos a lot, brain going faster than his typing capabilities. Jack propped his chin up on a palm. What was he supposed to say, some shitty poet was giving him weird e-mails with his personal information on it? That didn’t sound as insidious as it really felt.

 

**_Frost. Can we call? That’d be easier, right? I know you hate calls but please?_ **

_I’m okay. Sure, let’s do that._ Jack irritably typed. He guessed he wasn’t the only one reading his internet sidekick’s personality. He supposed it wasn’t too hard to figure out, considering any personal questions were dodged. Seconds later Skype popped up for a call, and Jack hesitantly accepted the audio.

“Hey, Frost. Thanks.”

“What’s up?” Jack tried, getting some confidence in his tired, yet-to-be-used voice.

“You tell me!” Myth scoffed. His voice was young and lively, brimming with excitement. Jack sighed a little bit, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Alright, alright. So I got this e-mail last night before I went to bed. It’s my school e-mail, so it was kind of weird that it wasn’t filtered out. The sender was Anon and no address given. It had my name and university room number and my home address. And there was some crappy one-line in there and a blank image. I got rid of it and this morning I just got another one with a second line. I just deleted it.”

He could hear Myth typing in the background. He felt like an idiot, talking about this.

“Well, I’m searching around and haven’t heard of any new scam or spam e-mails going around lately. Did anything else happen?”

“You’re asking me if my dorm is haunted, aren’t ya?”

“Well, if it was that’d be useful to know.” Jack chuckled a little, but Myth didn’t. “I mean it. What happened after you read that first e-mail? Did something else weird happen, or is it just the mail?”

“Well, I had a pretty good, well, bad nightmare last night. I got woken up when my window smashed.”

“Your window?!” Myth interrupted, stopping his typing. “Just out of nowhere?”

“I’m thinking some asshole threw a rock up here to second floor.”

“Did you find it?”

“What?”

“The rock. Did you find the rock?” Myth pressed. Jack could practically imagine him leaning forwards in his seat. What was the big deal? Jack assumed it must be if he was even letting him in on all this.

“No.” Jack said, the call going silent for a moment before more keys clicking was heard on the other end. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, sitting quietly if not awkwardly. Myth was usually good about saying things without much dead air between them.

“Ok, what were those lines you said were in the main e-mail?”

“The first one was something like not straying from the light. And the second one added something about darkness dwelling. Maybe there was a bit more alliteration to it.” Jack rubbed his fingers over a particularly longer strand of his coarse brown hair. This whole conversation was making him uncomfortable. “I’m just crazy, right?”

“Well, I think you’re crazy, Frost. But you don’t seem the guy that’s plagued by nightmares often. If you said it was good that means it felt pretty real. That window is a real worry though. E-mails are pretty harmless anyways. It might be some kind of summoning verse.”

“Summoning, huh. Satan could’ve just come a-knockin’.”

“It works a bit differently with supernaturals. It’s more like an invitation. Excuse the crude comparison, but when you lose a tooth and put it under your pillow, you’re inviting the tooth fairy. So maybe something is giving you a poem that helps summon something else.” Myth listed off, clicking through a couple links. Jack frowned, sitting on one of his shins in his chair. Suddenly sitting like normal felt a bit too odd.

“So some weird window-breaking poetry pixie is gonna come steal me away in the night when I don’t study for my Psychology test.”

“Ha, that sounds horrifying and completely undocumented,” Myth was amused, which was at least reassuring. The humor left his voice pretty quickly though. “No, I think your window breaking might have been the thing trying to get in. Lots of spirits can phase through objects, but particularly powerful ones might cause damage when they try it. It’s like there’s a hard center that can’t quite make it through the glass, but since the rest can, it just takes out the obstacle.” Jack’s eyes shifted over to the hole in his window, getting a cold gust of air ruffling his hair.

“You really are a geek, Myth.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, any ideas?”

“Well, it’s not a poetry pixie. But I’m not sure what it is. If anything, it’s probably going to make itself known through that e-mail chain you’re getting. That’s really amazing though. You might have an actual spirit coming to you!”

“It’s hardly amazing if it’s stalking me and breaking glass.” Jack retorted.

“Okay, you’re right. More like unwanted. But listen, it’s probably going to keep sending you those messages. If you don’t read them, it probably doesn’t count as reciting that little poem it’s making. So, it should stop summoning the thing, whatever it is. Alright?”

“So, just don’t ever check my school e-mail.”

“Well, that’s unavoidable. Just don’t open the mail. Delete them right away, trying getting them flagged. Whatever you wanna do. And get something to cover your window.” Myth listed off as if he was counting off on his fingers. The ghostbusters would be proud.

“Alright. Sounds fair enough.”

“Good. I’ll keep looking around and see if this rhyme is posted around someplace. It’d be cool to figure out what it is, ya know?”

“For you, yeah, I gotcha. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks, Frost.” Myth said with a smile at his lips, completely heard even through laptop microphones. “You want to play some Left 4 Dead 2? Take your mind off of it?”

“I like the way you think.” Jack snickered and opened up Steam.

 

They both played until Myth went to get dinner at his school cafeteria. Jack’s stomach growled in response, calling it a night for their games. The carnival was always their favorite level, but playing it four times really wore him out. He stood from his chair and stretched, wiggling his fingers to make sure they still had feeling in them from their rapid clicking.

He made sure to have his student ID before setting his Skype to away, not like it really mattered. Another chill blast of air hit his ear and elicited a shiver. He glared over at the offending hole in the window like it had committed a crime. Myth said to cover the hole, right? It was probably more practical than a spiritual thing, but the ominous wind surprising him was not that great no matter how wonderfully cold it was.

He picked up his thick brick of a Psychology book and leaned it up against the hole, laughing a bit. Finally found a use for the thing. It looked plenty stable, at least for now so he didn’t return to find his room like a fridge. He headed towards the door, but stopped and kept his eye on his laptop. Maybe checking wouldn’t hurt. He slipped into his chair and went to his school e-mail, holding his breath.

 

**You have (1) new message!**

 

He swallowed, suddenly feeling like he was drowning. The sender’s name sent goosebumps over his warm arms even as the hole in the window was blocked off. He deleted it and emptied the garbage bin before standing abruptly from his chair. He flicked the light off once he’d taken his keys from the hook, shutting the door and locking the creeping uneasiness in his room.

He was going to take a longer dinner break, today. Saturday was usually home cooking day, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone so much for all the kudos so far! Chapters are stating out shorter and updates whenever I can. Eventually it'll probably start to get into a deadline-type update. Enjoy!


	3. Anon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets away from his room, but always finds himself crawling back. Something about the outside makes him panic, and yet being in his room doesn't seem so safe anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I apologize at how late this chapter is. June is a very busy month for me! I hope this longer chapter will make up for it, and thanks SO MUCH for over 500 views and nearly 50 kudos! 
> 
> Anyways, here's your chapter!

Jack made it down to the cafeteria without running into anybody. He figured if some unlucky passerby did see him, he was probably ghostly pale. Even paler than he usually was, given his light complexion and how rarely he spent his time in the sun. Down a flight of stairs and through a few hallways was no difficult task on a Saturday night. Of course, many of his classmates were out with family for the weekend, or finding something to do before the snow befell the town. Jack didn’t bother making weekend plans unless it was to catch a Livestream session, anyways.

The cafeteria had a few students around at random round tables. Most friend circles stuck together even on the weekends, chattering loudly in the not-very-occupied canteen. A girl guffawed loudly as Jack swiped his school ID card at the door, allowing him his meal plan block for the night. He grabbed a tray and a few slices of pizza from the A La Carte side of the buffet line as well as a glass of milk. He could always go back for more, and idly thought he should, mostly to avoid going back to the room and checking his e-mail.

Jack shook his head and sighed. What was so bad about a silly chain letter? So, Myth thought something odd might be the cause of it. If Jack told Myth that the writing “suck cocks Bitz” was in his Psychology book he’d have a field day. He took a swig of his milk and already devoured one of the bar-b-que chicken pizza slices. He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth before taking another drink of milk. _The cooks actually seasoned it today. Too bad it’s about eight times the sun spicy._ He frowned, shoving the rest into his mouth anyways. So he didn’t like spicy food, but he didn’t like wasting food either.

Halfway through his pepperoni slice, he was drumming his fingers on the countertop. Would his window really break if something tried to come through it? It didn’t seem to make sense, since he didn’t see how it would want to go through a window of all things. Sure, Jack was calling evil demons impractical. That didn’t explain nightmares either. Hell, why was he bothering making sense of any of this? He’d get his sleep tonight, and study for that Psychology test last minute Sunday night, and then classes and normalcy would resume. Maybe if he got more sleep and stopped shoving awful food down his throat he’d sleep better.

He finished off his last few bites of pizza and swigged the milk. His stomach churned a little, still craving something else to settle the combinations he’d already ingested. He stood with his tray, ridding himself of the plates on a cart, and went through the line again. This time he got a grilled cheese sandwich from the university grill, along with a refill of his milk. If anything, standing up and walking around the buffet line would serve as his exercise for the day. Heading back to his table he saw someone wave in his direction. He raised an eyebrow and appraised the person, now most definitely walking to his table. He took a chair anyways, watching.

She was average height, with bright blond hair and brunette roots streaking through obviously. She wore a nice sparkling smile, though that was probably due to her shimmering lip gloss, and had a couple dimples and freckles around her cheeks and emerald eyes. It took a moment, but Jack recognized her. Whatever curse it was, he could remember the majority of his classmate’s names and faces, even if he never spoke to them. If anything, he knew this girl: Jacie McCormick. She sat a table across from Jack in English class, and spent most of the class writing in a journal instead of taking notes. For someone that looked genuinely out of his league, he was aware she was in the newspaper for school and scored well in her classes, joining a few clubs Jack didn’t care enough to remember. She was pretty definitive of the college golden girl: smart, pretty, and with tons of friends.

Long explanations aside, she sidled up by Jack’s chair.

“Hey, Jack. Stayed here for the weekend?” She casually small talked. Jack nodded.

“Yep, obviously. You too, huh?” He let a smile creep on his face. Comforting his ego some, the girl shifted and rubbed the back of her neck, her ears starting to stain a darker pink. He ventured it was just embarrassment, but he could take pride in the reaction regardless.

“Yeah…I’ve got a big article to write so I figured staying here would maybe make me focus some more,” She shrugged and returned to her full stature, confident. Jack nodded, drinking his milk again. He’s not so sure what to do now. It wasn’t that he was completely _awful_ at conversation, but what the hell was he supposed to do confronted by her? She must want something. So why should he initiate anything? She needed him. She can ask. Jack wasn’t supposed to do anything. He really hated people. He wanted to get back to his room. Then he remembered why he really didn’t want to.

“Huh, bummer. So, did you need something?” Jack leveled his tone out. He sounded a bit too uninterested, or even bothered. Jacie seemed to lose her smile if for but a moment, but she set her hands on the back of the chair to Jack’s right.

“Yeah, actually. Dr. Chalmers has us writing a reflection for Gatsby by Monday, right?”

“Right.” Jack had finished that the day it was assigned as well. He’d spark noted the book, anyways. Even if he liked writing, that didn’t mean he had to like someone else’s.

“I’m just a little stuck for points. Did you have a couple I could use?” She put on another warm, award-winning smile, trying to crack the ice around Jack’s expression. He pursed his lips, putting his chin his hand and ‘hmmed’ audibly, showing her he was thinking.

“Did you mention the symbolism with the eyes on the billboard?” He lifted his chin from his hand again. Jacie looked up at the bulbs in the ceiling, remembering what she had written, before her smile broadened.

“Oh, I can totally write a third of a page about that. Thanks a lot, Jack. I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved his hand again. “If anything, bullshitting his papers works out pretty well.”

“Bullshitting? You do really well in his class, whenever he calls on you, you have an answer!”

“Call it some observation.” _Or spark-noting,_ He mentally chastised himself. Jacie shrugged again, still chuckling a little before looking across the room. Jack lifts his eyes to watch the table she must have come from, with a few of her friends watching their exchange. He raises an eyebrow again as he finds a particular brunette eying him oddly, but he looked back at Jacie straight-faced. “So, we’re good. See you in English. And Psychology.” He added as an afterthought. She usually sat in the back on the right side of the auditorium the class was held in. He’d find his memory a bit creepy if it wasn’t for the fact he knew way more people’s locations in his classes than one pretty girl.

“Oh!” She blinks in surprise. “We do have that together, huh. Bitz gave you a hard time about that object permanence slide.” Jack felt a toothy grin crawl on his face and he let a slight giggle leave his lips.

“Well, it was true that I’d try it with my baby sister with rubber spiders. She can’t fail me for giving the class an example.”

“She can fail you if this test on Monday is as hard as it looks.”

“As long as she follows her own damn study guide, I think we’ll live.” Jack shrugged again, his figners running along the side of his glass of milk. Jacie held back a small laugh and nodded.

“Right. So that reminds me. Some friends and I are meeting in the commons for a study session tomorrow night,” Jack lifts his eyes a little, deep russet brown filtering through his equally chestnut colored hair to stare at her. “It’s for that psychology test. I mean, if you want to come, it’d be really cool. We’re just gonna be reviewing the powerpoints and study guide.” Was this really happening? Someone in the school, noticing him? Wanting him to be with them, to not be alone? His face must have shared his internal confusion, or rather shock, because Jacie smiled even softer. “It’s tomorrow at seven. If you’re interested.”

“I’ll…think about it.” He forced the words out of himself. _What was he doing? He, Jackson Overland, did not need anybody. He’d be forgotten by them soon enough._

“Cool. See you in class, have a good night!” She waves, smiling again. Jack gives a jerky wave as she turns and walks back to her table, rejoining her friends. Jack averted his eyes quickly, not wanting to see the far-away retelling of what she spent so much time over with him for. His grilled cheese was cold, but he ate the rest of it hurriedly, discarding the burnt crusts. He swigged his milk and got up from his seat quickly, his chair making awful shrieks as he moved it back. _Back to the room, no more conversations. Just don’t check the you-know-what._ He recited this over and over to himself, getting rid of his tray and leaving the cafeteria.

He really hated people. He didn’t need them. He just needed his computer and his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

His key fumbled in the crappy lock but gave way to a few jiggles. He stepped into the room, feeling his heart still pounding. He’d talked to someone, been noticed, and invited to something as trivial as a study party. It worried him. His conscience told him he should go, it’d be good for him. The rest of Jack screamed and pleaded to never meet eyes with the blond and her friends ever again. Then he’d disappear, be forgotten faster. He’d be forgotten shortly anyways. The fear rocked him even more as his eyes passed through his darkened room. Just when it got nearly unbearable, he flicked the light switch on. The panic trigger receded, and Jack dropped into his computer chair, taking a few breaths.

 _“Don’t EVER talk to strangers, Jack.”_ The voice snapped, close enough to reality to make him flinch. He took a couple more breaths and put in his ear buds, playing his music as the computer came out of sleep mode. Skype blinked and he clicked on it a little too eagerly.

**_Hey Frost._**

_Hey. Your school food just as bad as it is here?_ Jack typed up quickly, trying to stop the shaking in his fingers. Calm down Jack.

**_Pretty much. I’ve been looking around since I got back, nothing yet._**

_Figures I’d be that one unlucky motherfucker._

**_Haha, of course. Is there anything else you haven’t mentioned that’d tip me off to what it could be?_**

_I’m pretty sure I told you pretty much everything. I’m bad at seeing these mythical signs or whatever._

**_Okay, well I’ll keep trying to think of something. Some spirits are just found by some feelings or emotions. Others are more like day and night. It could really be anything. Seems to be more of a night time thing though, huh?_**

_I guess._ Jack frowned. His increased paranoia was just a reaction to some creepy e-mails. As for the fear, that was in his past. He really didn’t want to think about going to that study group again. He didn’t know what they could have planned. He took another breath as his song went to the next in the playlist. He started scrolling through Tumblr while Myth tried prying information that didn’t exist from him.

 

Hours passed and Myth had grown silent. He must be furiously scouring the web and Wikipedia pages or books he kept close for anything to tell his online friend. Frost got few messages that day; aside from the one joking ask Myth had sent him earlier. Night fell soundlessly outside, his Psychology book shielding him from the cold breeze.

Psychology. He didn’t even want to think about what he should do tomorrow night. If anything, studying would be good for him, even if talking to the others wasn't. He sighed, drumming his fingers on the side of his laptop. Getting the notes for Psyche wouldn’t be so hard, since the teacher sent them out to the students after the class.

His fingers typed out the address he needed in the search bar, without fully realizing what he was going to check.

 

**You have (5) new messages!**

Jack swallowed hard. His eyes skimmed them in reverse, but he moved his hand away from the mouse to avoid clicking any of them. The one from last night was deleted, but one had replaced it early that morning.

From: Anon

Subject: For  Jack

From: Anon

Subject: Jack

From: Anon

Subject: JACK

From: Anon

Subject: JACK

From: Anon:

Subject: JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK

 

He nearly leapt out of his chair as another message came into his inbox.

 

JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK

 

He didn’t even notice his breathing had picked up until another message came into his inbox. The subject line spanned out as far as the character limit and screen size would allow. His hand finally went to his mouse, hovering over the band of color signifying an unread message.

He forced his wrist jerkily to ‘Select All’ and hit the trash can. He didn’t need that Psychology e-mail.

He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. This was getting out of hand. It was getting to him way too easily. Jackson Overland wouldn’t get so worked up over some e-mail chain for nothing! He was terrified, like fear leaked from the screen every time he saw it, even though it couldn’t hurt him. Couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t _know_ him. He took in a sharp intake of breath when a new e-mail entered his inbox. He should’ve closed the tab right away.

From: Anon

Subject: Curious Jack

He licked his lips. When had they gotten so dry? This Anon couldn’t know he had this tab open, could he? He clicked delete on that message too, hovering over the X on the tab when another one came up.

Subject: He can help

Another message.

Subject: Just let him in

Jack’s hand locked up, unable to delete the messages.

 

Jack

Jack

JACK

JACK

JACK

His eyes were sore from not blinking. Another message came into his increasing inbox.

 

Subject: (No subject)

 

His finger twitched and he let the mail open this time. It loaded in no time.

 

**He comes in the deadest of the night**

**And for fears he shall remain**

There was no image this time, only the two lines of the poem. Jack swallowed hard and backed out of the messages, emptying his inbox and closing the tab likely just as another message came in. His desktop stared at him and he ran his hands through his unruly brunette hair.

“Who is…he…?” He caught himself gasping in nearly a whisper. He realized he’d spoken aloud when his window gave a creak against the wind. Jack was instantly on his feet, the ear buds falling from his ears. His room was lit up but the moon didn’t even come close to shining in, as if that’d reassure him. He shut the plain bluish curtains over the window, making sure the Psychology book was still balanced against the hole of the window. Jack paced the room, agitated. _He?! What the fuck is going on? E-mails don’t talk and they sure as hell don’t know when you’re reading them._ Jack tried to console himself. No matter what he said, it didn’t work. E-mails can’t talk and can’t know when they’re read and yet it _happened._

He nearly gave an embarrassing cry as his Skype made a noise to alert a new message. Standing so abruptly had ripped the ear buds from his ears and the headphone jack, apparently. He stared at the computer as if it was going to grow legs and bounce over to him like a rabbit, before returning to his seat.

 

**_Still not much luck…there’s a whole lot of different faeries depending on which region you’re in._**

Jack couldn’t call him. He wasn’t sure his voice would work.

 _Did you find any kind of lead?_ Not much luck seemed to be at least a start.

**_Well, all I could connect to your nightmares would be some kind of Sandman. A lot of these creatures are just hundreds or more years old. Technology isn’t a thing for them, you know?_**

_My dreams could be a coincidence though. I hear what you mean._

**_Yeah. But creatures keep fair distance from people they visit in their sleep. People react differently with different sleep patterns. They’d have to be summoned or something._**

_But that’s what the poem is for, right?_ Jack ran a hand over his mouth and chin, as if he’d been thinking with a mythical beard over his chin.

**_I guess that’s a point. Still, not reading them kinda hinders bringing whatever it is to you. Or finding out what it is._**

Jack figured telling Myth about opening the e-mails maybe wasn't the best idea. He could find out what this was himself. Sandman was a good enough start.

_True._

* * *

 

The late morning couldn’t settle fast enough. Myth headed off to bed around two in the morning. Jack didn’t really want to sleep, but at the same time, he did. It was a strange inner debate. You can: not sleep and be too exhausted to study for this exam, or, sleep and learn what sort of horrible thing is infecting your dreams. Neither sounded pleasant.  Once three hit Jack decided exhaustion would be worse for him. If anything he could just sleep less than usual and hope REM sleep didn’t set in. He changed out of his lazy clothing into his actual pajamas, letting the soft fabric replace his jeans.

He looked around his room for a moment before pulling the sheets from his bed, ready for him to climb into the warmth and comfort it should offer. Regardless, he went back and shut the light off in the room, and practically leapt into bed. Whatever worried him was worse in the dark and to avoid looking deeper into he had as much fun as he could when getting into bed. He bounced on the squeaking springs and wrapped the blankets around him, rolling onto his sides but keeping his eyes clenched shut. His phone was set to go off at eight in the morning: more than enough study time and a decent amount of bad sleep.

He tried to let the sound of silence sooth him into sleep, but it was more worrying. He shook his head and buried the side of his face into his pillowcase. His breathing evened out once he directed his thoughts to his Psychology teacher’s droning voice and not the eerie messages plaguing his weekend.

* * *

 

Everything was dark when he woke up.

He wasn’t in bed. He was in some sort of suspended plane of absolute blackness. He hoped his eyes would adjust, but they didn’t. He pushed himself up, not feeling the comfort of his mattress and his sheets.

“Jack?” He looked up abruptly at the voice.

“Mom?” He questioned, his monotone slipping away into something more carefree and worried.

“Oh my god, JACK!” She shrieked, sending Jack flying to his feet.

“MOM?!” He called out again, voice full of panic. _Where is she? Why can’t I see anything? Am I—_

_Dreaming?_

“Get away from him!” His mom’s voice still sent shudders rocketing down his spine. Her voice near a growl, crawling up her throat in rage that must have made her throat ache. That’s what she sounded like that day. He’d never forget that.

He was dreaming.

“JACK!” She shrieked again. Jack covered his ears hurriedly.

**“JACK!”**

It’s just a dream.

_Wake up, wake up, wake—_

He inhaled oxygen as if it was a commodity. He was drowning in a sea of darkness. His instincts flew into action and his hand slammed onto his bedside counter, in turn pressing the switch of his lamp. His eyes were wide in panic and his breathing was labored, but it ceased all together with another tight intake of air.

The light practically came on in slow motion, even though the switch was hit instantaneously as he woke from the nightmare. Darkness slunk away, creeping back on the walls and floor to under his desk, the opposite corners, under the bed under his line of vision. Several seconds passed that might have stretched for minutes, even hours, Jack didn’t know. Finally he needed to breathe before he was blue, if his face could even manage color at that point. He breathed heavily, as if he had been choked. That nightmare was the worst. It triggered that moment he wasn’t proud of and _no don’t think about it._

Finally his room seemed to be unoccupied and normal. As normal as it could be in the dead of night when the darkness seemed to shift and waver in his line of sight. He finally drew his eyes from the particularly blobby dark spots in his room, but they stopped moving, only twitching when his eyes pleaded to blink. He looked back at his lamp, slipping his hand away from the switch, his eyes only starting to shake again.

He flipped over so he was facing the wall, curled up with blankets pulled up tightly to himself. He didn’t turn the lamp off, hoping it’d give him some kind of warm comfort his bed couldn’t offer, even if the light bulb reflected off the cover of his Psychology book. A light autumn breeze blew into the room as Jack fell back asleep. 


	4. Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack tries to face his inner demons.  
> Well, tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June is a busy month, and I'll be away again this weekend. So I figured an early chapter would be better than a late one. I'll need to update some tags in the future, since I'm still getting used to Ao3. Please enjoy!

Jack pries his eyes open as his alarm screeches early in the morning. He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking, forcing himself awake at a chance to see the Sandman. Because he totally planned that, of course. He scrambled around for his phone where he left it on his side table, jolting up when he felt the smooth texture of the textbook there instead. He frowned, the buzzing continuing to go off as his phone was nowhere in sight.

His arm flailed around blindly on his side table as his vision cleared and his brain was forced to awaken. Not finding it there, or spotting it on his computer desk, he stepped out of bed. The floor was freezing, given the wind had been unkind that night. Following the obnoxious sounds he got on his knees and peered warily under the bed. His phone vibrated and rang a good couple feet under the bed. He swallowed, reaching under quickly and pulling it out, turning the alarm off. _How did my phone get under the bed, or more so, why isn’t this stupid book over the window?_

Now that he was awake it really sunk in. There was no explanation. Something was happening in his room and he didn’t know if there was even a way to stop what it was.

He groaned in frustration. He was so tired and yet sleeping didn’t sound too great. He did want to study, after all, especially if he wasn’t going to go to that group at seven. Really, not thinking about it would probably be better for him than going. Jack stepped over to his desk and started up his computer on instinct, letting everything load while he collected his notebook on top of his dresser. Perhaps he’d get dragged into the depths of the internet to keep himself awake, but it would be better than falling asleep studying for this boring test. If it wasn’t for his GPA and the credits he wouldn’t care so much about a stupid test.

He set up his notes on his desk and logged onto his websites instantly. It was eight in the morning and nothing had occurred since he went to bed. Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it was more than disappointing to not have an inkling of something to distract him from being productive. Oh well, productivity was needed. A sharp gust rippled through his curtains, causing him to shiver. The presence of his moved book behind him at the side table was more disconcerting the more often he was reminded that it shouldn’t be there.

Jack took his notes and dropped them onto his bed. Studying in bed wasn’t a great idea, but it would be a bit warmer and less distracting than the cold. He loved the cold, but not when it was a constant reminder of a mysteriously broken window and giving him even more shivers. He couldn’t wait for Christmas break, where the cold outside would be fully welcome with the vacation and fun times to be had in the snow.

Homework was absolutely the opposite of fun. Jack got comfortable in his bed, computer playing music at a low volume to somehow keep himself awake. After much contemplation he did get his book off of the night stand, finding nothing unusual about it after all. He flipped through it and his notes to study more on the chapter. It was so boring, rereading things and refreshing the memory of what he’d already learned…but at least it was warm…

_“Jaaaaaaack.”_

He shifted a little as his shoulder became sore. His fingers drummed on the lined paper of his notebook, words starting to blur a little.

_“Jack! Can we go skating?”_

Jack groaned a little, his thumb flicking at the bottom corner of his paper. He bent his knees a little to curl up more under the warm sheets.

_“You can do your homework later! Let’s go play!”_

Jack races after Emma hurriedly, laughing all the way. The snow is up to the top of his boots, but with his snow pants sealed over the top of them, there’s no problem. If it wasn’t for mom, he’d run out in his jeans for all he cared. Cold feet weren’t fun to have, as his mother said. Jack didn’t care. The cold was fun.

“I’m gonna get ya!” He jeered, running after Emma as she squealed in glee.

“Race you to the lake!” She called. Jack rolled his eyes but broke out into a long legged dash after her. The dirt path behind their modest house would take them into a sparse forest and small secluded pond. Emma’s friends always wanted to join her there. Jack didn’t really tell anyone in his class about it. For all he cared about, it was his and his sister’s hideaway.

The lake appeared in front of them in no time. The trees in the area were bare and frost tipped, extending high into the gray clouded sky. He weaved around the trunks of the large trees to make it to the lake’s edge, catching his breath. The air puffed out in frozen bursts in front of him.

“Beat you!” He laughed, looking over his shoulder. His laughter dropped off as he didn’t see the long brunette hair on his little sister, bounding up to meet him. “Emma?” Jack called out again, his voice carrying through the trees and practically echoed back to him. “Emma!” Jack raised his voice and turned around all the way, looking far down the path as he could see. The horizon was hazy and white like it was snowing freshly in the distance.

The house was nonexistent from his vision, and even with the bare trees with plenty of room apart from them with heavily treaded paths, everything was visibly empty. She’d simply disappeared, leaving Jack alone.

 **“Emma!”** Jack’s throat wrenched at the pain cry he gave. There’s no way she could disappear. Where could she be? He dashed back down the path, eyes darting all around him for any sign of the young girl. He didn’t know how far he ran, but he didn’t stop. His boots crunched on the dirt path paved with crisp snow that didn’t even hold the two children’s footprints from their race.

He skidded to a stop right before the edge of ice. The lake had frozen over and the misty weather turned everything outside of the clearing to blurred lines. _I just passed the lake._ Jack thought to himself, not remembering taking any turns. Regardless, his breath caught at the sight.

“Jack…” Emma’s quiet, sweet voice carried over their distance. She was standing in the center of splintering cracks in the ice that looked thick enough to carry her. Regardless, the cracks increased as Jack looked at them. He chose again to lock eyes with his sister’s. She wore her simple white puffy coat, a green scarf tucked down into it. Her snow pants hung over her boots and rested on the further cracking ice, too long for her short legs. Brown hair framed her terrified face, and Jack’s heart lurched.

“Hey, it’s alright,” He kept his voice even, even with his heart hammering in his chest.

“Jack, I’m scared.” She whimpers, her knees shaking.

“Hey, don’t be. I’m right here. C’mon, baby steps to me, okay?”Jack got to the edge of the ice. The water was hardly half a foot deep here, so the ice held under his weight.

“No! You’re never there! You always leave, to be alone!” She suddenly bursts. Jack freezes in his advancing.

“What?”

“Stay away from me!”

“Emma-”

“ _Stay away!”_ She shrieks, and disappears into the ice. Jack leaps forward in an instant, scrambling to catch her hand. He fails, and she disappears into the waters. He was alone again, and it was his fault.

 **“Emma!”** Jack hollers, raising his head. Papers go flying underneath his fingers, no longer broken sheets of ice. His breathing hitched while his eyes focused on his boring dorm room, music softly playing from his computer and his Psychology book open under his arm. He threw the covers off of his lower half, cursing. “It’s not even _night!”_ He snarls under his breath. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he goes to the window. The temperature in the room was still freezing and sent unwanted shivers down Jack’s spine. The more the window remained unfixed, the more he started to dislike the chill. He lifted the book from his desk and propped it up against the hole. It was thinner and more flimsy, but did block out some cold. He needed his text book.

“Sorry my psychology book was so boring. Have some shitty literature instead.” Jack laughed to himself as The Great Gatsby’s eyes just watched him from where it was against the window. _Great, I’m talking to myself._ Jack huffed and turned away. The e-mail did refer to a person, and the shadows seemed to move the night before. If anything, some witty conversation could persuade it to leave him alone. If there even was anything there to hear him.

Jack paced the room, trying to keep his thoughts in control as well as his breathing. He’d fallen asleep studying. He knew it’d happen, but was trying to force himself awake, and yet sleep beckoned him. He was so tired, the nightmares making his sleep restless no matter how long he stayed under their control. He finally stopped his pacing and took a seat in front of the computer, realizing he’d slept for close to 4 hours. It was nearly noon, but the sun wasn’t shining. It might actually snow today. The computer started up as did his routine. He could study later, maybe even with that group.

For a Sunday things kicked off pretty well. Myth went out to the movies in the afternoon, leaving Jack to his scrolling and videos. It was a pleasant distraction from the morning’s events, as well as helped keep him awake. Before he knew it, his stomach growled irritably. It was just after six in the evening, the last six hours lost to the depths of the internet. He eyed his notes scattered on the bed warily. If he went down to dinner, he wouldn’t doubt that he’d run into Jacie again.

That familiar chill came and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck, his eyes going to the covered window. The gust seemed to just be in his head, given it shouldn’t have reached or made his entire back cold. He didn’t want to interact with the girl and whoever else she’d brought along. He didn’t need them. They’d leave him alone after they get what they want.

 _“You’re never there! You always leave, to be alone!”_ His sister’s voice rang clear and true through his ears. He stood form his chair, pushing it back and stalked over to the bed. He hurriedly gathered the papers, not caring that they were out of order, and set them on the thick textbook. He lifted them up to rest against his chest and arm. Lastly he grabbed his key ring and student ID, heading back to the door and not bothering setting his computer into sleep mode.

He didn’t want to be in his room anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Jack!” He stopped his walking as footsteps sped up next to him. Jacie stepped into his line of vision, and he’d already replaced his somber expression into the crooked smile.

“That’s me. Sup?” He acted cool, trying to bite down the nervousness wriggling in all his organs. Jacie was beaming, having a tote bag over her shoulder, and looked at the books in Jack’s arms.

“You’re coming to the study group?” She didn’t even acknowledge his small talk drop in, which he was thankful for. He shrugged shortly.

“I didn’t get much studying done on my own so…”

“Awesome! I think everyone is just finishing up dinner so let’s go.” She smiles and starts to walk with him, and Jack follows despite the internal protests. _I can’t believe this is happening right now._ The commons wasn’t far away, given he had been headed there anyways, but it still felt like it was miles away. The few people that they passed all knew Jacie, and maybe even Jack, as they waved and watched them go. It was even more disconcerting. His feet felt heavy, but he tried to keep his steps quiet and invisible as he and Jacie entered the commons.

Commons wasn’t that special of a place despite its size. A Student-employed after-hours food joint was along the wall, serving deep fried and frozen confections for those that missed the meal plan dinner times. Tiles spread around to a few couches and chairs by old TVs. More around the room were round tables and classroom chairs for holding a lot of people. School dances were held here, once the chairs were cleared of course, given a slightly elevated stage and sound system out towards the front. Windows overlooked the school grounds as well as the indoor basketball courts. Regardless of its grandeur, Jack much preferred his room. It was always too loud or too devoid with not-at-all comfy chairs to work in, and who gets work done on a recliner.

He was lead to a round table back against the window, directly across from the food shack. Jacie took a seat by the brunette Jack recognized from dinner the night before. Another girl with shorter blond hair was next to the brunette, leaving three seats at the round table open.

“Hi, Jack.” The brunette says none-too-enthusiastically. “Looks like I lost the bet.” Her eyes roll over to the shorter blond.

“I’m sorry?” He gives a slanted smile. After a long hard moment he pulls out the chair by Jacie, though he keeps a good foot or so away.

“She said you wouldn’t come, I said you would.” The small blond smiled. Her eyes were a dark blue and her hair wasn’t as platinum as Jacie’s was, and no brown roots showing. It just teased at her shoulders, getting shorter closer to the back.

“Well, uh, congratulations. I would’ve lost that bet too.” He smiled at them both, not going to mention he had no idea who they were. The blond and Jacie give slight giggles and the brunette rolls her eyes, but seems amused that she wasn’t wrong in thinking he wouldn’t show. The table goes quiet, aside from Jack letting the books leave his clammy grip to set on the table in front of him. Jacie breaks the silence, not to his surprise.

“Jack, uh, this is Hazel,” She gestures to the brunette, who simply nods. “And she’s Belle,” The blond, obviously. She gives a shy wave barely coming up from under the table where her hands are in her lap. “They have psychology after us. And they’re my roommates.” She throws in as an afterthought, probably because Jack still isn’t sure how he ended up at a table of girls.

“Nice to meet you. You obviously already know who I am.” He shrugs, thumbing the corner of his notebook. The girls exchange a few glances before Jack’s eyes drift off the edge of the table, darting around the room. The place seemed fairly empty, and the window behind him was giving off a cool temperature as the outside one decreased as the sun fell. “So, uh, anyone else I might know coming too?” He threw out there, keeping his voice even and trying to make his breathing follow suit.

“Dustin and Matt said they would come in after practice. It’s usually out at seven but apparently they’ve been getting held up lately.” Jacie responded, while Hazel sent a text lazily on the table. Jack nods, not really able to place a face to their names at the moment. He assumed he’d meet them anyways at some point, if he didn’t bail.

“Alright,” He responded, given silence had befallen the four students. After a couple moments the girls took their books out, Jack flipping open his notebook randomly. At least he didn’t feel so odd-one-out at the moment.

“So, we just start with section one, and go from there?” Jacie started.

“Yeah. We can cover all the bullet points on the powerpoint.” Belle thumbed through printed pages of the powerpoint the teacher had sent them. Jack swallowed little thickly, knowing he was going to print that before the e-mail fiasco of last night occurred.

“Might as well do the vocab too. She would just throw that sort of crap on a test.” Hazel stuffs her phone into the pocket of her zip up hoodie. Jack nods, idly trying to reorganize his loose papers he’d hastily thrown into the notebook.

“Alright, well, let’s just go around and read the definitions over, and then later we can quiz each other on them. Section one of chapter five, sensation…”

 

Jack had no problem staying quiet and listening. When they went around reading the bullet points he struggled, since he didn’t have the direct powerpoint in front of him, and most of his notes were still misplaced. Jacie shared her copy with him, pushing their chairs closer, though Jack leaned away to the point he was only half on his chair. The proximity made him tense, but at least he could read through the notes with them without looking like a blundering fool.

Ruining his chances to relax further, Dustin and Matt joined them at seven thirty. He could place their faces now; of course they were both on the school Football team. _Thank god they went and showered._ Jack’s placated smile withered as Dustin, six-foot three and twice Jack’s width sat at the chair next to him.

“Coach wasn’t too rough on us today!” Matt says first, the smaller of the boys. His hair is dirty blonde and still wet and plastered to his head from the shower. Dustin is much the same, though much stockier with almost black hair starting to curl upwards as it dries.

“Well, lucky you two. Now you get to do what school is actually supposed to be for.” Hazel grumbled, sliding her phone’s qwerty keyboard open and closed. Jack smiles, enjoying the quick wit of the other brunette of the table, but keeps his eyes lowered. Matt sneers at her jokingly, but after the second of silence, they both seem to notice Jack’s presence. He nearly curses. The one time being invisible may have been better.

“So, Jacky did come!” Dustin claps him on the back, and Jack swore he didn’t flinch.

“I would’ve thought we’d be surprised you two came, since you’re late already.” He retorts, trying to keep the acid back from his voice. It doesn’t work completely, as Dustin raises a thick eyebrow at him.

“Ooh, hardcore study time. Gotcha. Just fill me in on some of this stuff.” He pulls out a beat-up notebook and nothing else, flipping open to his notes. Matt does the same next to him. Unlike Dustin, Matt seems to always have a slight grin on his lips.

“We were about to go around quizzing each other.” Jacie smiles, looking at the table’s occupants.

 

Jack kept his eyes on the table as ten minutes flew by. The girls went through getting the two males up to speed (though Hazel berated them mostly, to which Jack would crack a smile). He didn’t know if it was the massive levels of testosterone surrounding him, or the mystery meatball sub from dinner, but he was getting the chills again. Even wearing his hoodie and having the windows two feet behind him, he got the shudders and hair-raising sensations more and more frequently. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm himself down from whatever was beginning to bother him about the place.

Things had been going fine. He was doing well, holding in the panic, relaxing by other people. They weren’t talking about him, they talked about class. There wasn’t anything to be worried about.

 _“Don’t ever talk to strangers, Jack!”_ the voice chided in his head once more. He shook his head, trying to ease the throbbing compulsion in his head to just find some sort of comfy chair to curl up in. The recliners across the room didn’t look half bad, but bowing out of this conversation would be more troublesome. He needed to get out before he made a scene.

The girls must have straightened something in the sports players’ heads because they returned to turning pages. Jack watched their hands moving, only just starting to lift his head. He checked his phone from his pocket, still not quite eight. He felt like he’d been smothered here much longer than he actually was.

“Jack?” Jacie’s voice breaks his thoughts and he looks up, realizing she’s still sitting fairly close. He swallows, hoping his mouth stops being so dry. “You don’t look that well, pale and kinda out of it. You okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Jack ran a hand through his hair, brushing his forehead and realizing it was damp in a cold sweat. Something was off. “…Actually I do feel a bit under the weather. I might turn in for a bit and study before class tomorrow.” He solidifies his point by folding his notebook closed as well as the textbook he’d hardly looked at. The other four members of the table watch him stand, more impassively. “Thanks for this though. Good luck on the test.” He nods, eyes darting between them all to read their expressions. _They must be judging him, thinking he’s weak. He’s not well, he doesn’t want to be there, he shouldn’t have even bothered to come._ The more his thoughts progressed, the more right they sounded.

“Oh, alright. Get well!” Jacie calls, almost rising from her seat to follow Jack’s retreating form. He doesn’t give her the chance, waving a hand over his shoulder without turning around, and disappears around the corner. He weaves through the halls into the dorms quickly. He’s at his room in just a moment, fumbling with his keys and getting the door open. Light from the hallway floods into his room, and the dark, much like when he’d be awoken the night before, flinches and starts to squirm to the shadowy places of the room.

Jack’s feet solidify at the threshold, staring as the light pours in, but at the edges are still throbbing, moving bits of darkness. He takes a shaky breath, and takes a step in, hand reaching for the light switch, but he hesitates.

“Didn’t expect me back so soon?” He’d be embarrassed later, thinking about how breathy and weak his voice sounded. The shadows say nothing, which actually upsets him a bit more. He flicks his hand and light floods the room, the darkness completely retreating into its preferred areas of the room. He set his books on top of his dresser, eying the spot under his bed where no light hit. Talking wouldn’t get him anywhere except the loony bin. “I know something’s going on. So if you just, I dunno, stop freaking me out and go away without breaking my window, that’d be great.” The acid from his tone that hadn’t all been flung at Dustin came out then, but no one seemed to hear him. He sighed heavily and went back to his computer.

If the poem did summon something, maybe the poem wasn’t finished. If it wasn’t finished, things couldn’t get worse.

He wasn’t going to check his e-mail again, no matter the situation. 


	5. Boogeyman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack's dreams get a bit too lucid, and History class is never going to be his favorite.

Jack was smiling. Not his normal, crooked “I’m up to some mischief” smile, but one that was more innocent. The streets of Burgess were bustling with activity for the local autumn street fair, vendors selling their wares as far as he could see. The leaves were cascading down around himself and mom, his shoes crunching already-fallen ones. The air was still warm, but crisp, the piles of leaves just reminding Jack that soon snow would replace them.

“Jack baby, are you hungry for lunch?” Mom looked down at Jack over her rounded belly. Still smiling, he nodded enthusiastically. Wafting smells of ethnic cuisine from food trucks and stands tantalized him and made his stomach rumble. 

“Yes!” He looked around excitedly, the wind tossing his hair around.

“Okay, there’s pizza, corndogs, tacos, chicken wings, turkey legs….You eat anything, huh?” She smiled, pointing through the crowd while Jack’s eyes followed their direction.

“I’ll eat anything.” Jack agreed, waving as a child his age that walked by with a yo-yo water balloon. They waved back and his smile only grew.

“What are you hungry for?” Mom pressed further, trying to get Jack’s attention again. He ‘hmm’ed, thinking aloud by reciting his options with a good memory.

“I wanna corndog. With lotsa ketchup and pickles.” He beamed up at his mother, his eyes dropping to her stomach as he ran his hand down the bulge. He couldn’t wait for his new friend, she could have dad’s bed. Dad didn’t like his bed and went to someone else’s for a while. But he still wasn’t home. Little sister could fill his place and they’d play together in the snow soon.

“Ok, c’mon, this way.” She took his hand with some force, making sure he didn’t let go. Mom got mad when he let go to see something new, but he wanted his lunch. She took him over to a large group of the food carts, standing nearby before she let go. “Jack, sweetie, I’ll get in line. Stay by me, okay?” There were a lot of people around, Jack shuffling a little with nervous energy.

“Can I sit? My feet hurt.” He pleaded up to her. Mom looked him over appraisingly, seeing his sincerity before cracking her resolve.

“Okay, this way.” She stepped away from the stand to a picnic table across from the stands. The others were filling quickly with people and their lunch, and when Jack saw the clear half of the table, he hopped up onto the bench. “Jack, stay here. I’ll be back in just one minute with your lunch. Stay here.” She rested a hand on his shoulder before ruffling his hair. Jack laughed and nodded several times, swinging his legs.

“I’m here!” He smiled. Mom nodded and turned back to the line, waiting behind a few other couples. Jack’s eyes started to wander over the large streets he remembered. The ice cream parlor was covered by colorful banners and balloons, a few wood carvers and craftsmen having tables on the side walk in front of it. A bright Ferris wheel was seen just over the tops of a building he didn’t really recognize, but had seen mom drive through it a couple of times. He wondered how they carried it to the fair. The bouncing castles were just past the food plaza and he couldn’t help but hop a little in his seat, imagining how fun they could be. The last time he’d been in one of those, it was at the park during a barbed-cue party for dad. That was already a long time ago.

“Hey, sport. What are you so excited about?” Jack’s eyes flit to the other half of the table. The couple that had been eating their lunch from before were gone, he figured, and a man had taken their place. He smiled brightly at him and stopped swinging his legs for a moment.

“I saw the bounce houses and thought they looked fun. And the Ferris wheel. I haven’t been on them since I was little.” Jack recites. The man smiles back.

“Since you were little, huh! You don’t look that old to me, but you’re a big boy huh, without your mom and dad around.” Jack scoffs, raising his chin proudly.

“Nope. I’m nine and a half. They had bounce castles at the park before. They were fun, and there were lots of nice people there with food and games.”

“That does sound like a lot of fun.”

“Yeah. More grown-ups should know how to have fun. A lot of them just sit around at stores drinking coffees. It doesn’t look fun like the bouncey castles. They should try it.”

“Oh, well, when you grow up you’re a bit too big for the bounce castles.”

“Just cuz they’re too big, doesn’t mean they can’t have fun. If yer a grown up you can do whatever and have fun, and if bounce castles are fun, they should be able to play on them.” Jack kicked his legs a little more. Grownups always looked so sad and worried about stuff. It wasn’t that hard to have fun! They could do whatever, like drive and talk to people and go shopping and buy as much ice cream they could carry. Jack suddenly really wanted to grow up because that sounded great. The man chuckles a bit.

“You’re right. You’re probably the smartest nine and a half year old boy around. Want to be president?” Jack made a scowl for a face, remembering some of the presidents from class, though he wasn’t so good with paying total attention.

“Sounds not fun at all.”

“But you could buy as much ice cream as you wanted.” The man waves a hand, proving the point. Jack’s mouth forms an ‘O’ as he realizes that that would mean a lot of ice cream.

“Maybe when I’m bigger.” He kicks his feet on the bench again. The man nods before laughing a little, making Jack look up at him. “Are you having fun? The fair is really nice.”

“I am having fun, sport. Especially since I have a nice little friend to talk to. Want to get some ice cream?” He points over to a stall. Jack turned in his seat to look over at the stall with colorful drawings of ice cream cones on it. He looks back at the corn dog stand, seeing his mom still pretty far in the line.

“Mom would be mad if I had dessert before lunch.” He nods.

“You always listen to your mom? Doesn’t sound so fun.” Jack makes a face and thinks. Mom did always call him something, ‘mischievous’ he thinks. It’s a big word he can’t spell, but she says it when he’s found a new game to play. Last time it was when he hid her car keys until he got a cookie for finishing his math assignment without any help. “Besides, if she’s bringing you lunch, you can get ice cream, eat your lunch, and then have the ice cream. It won’t melt.” The man continues. Jack sort of shrugs, a habit he was picking up from watching other people curiously.

“I guess.”

“Here, there’s no one in line. Come show me which one you’d like.” He stood up and offered a hand, starting to walk. Jack hopped off the bench but pushed his hand away, heading across to the stand with the man.

_“Jack?”_

_“Oh my god, JACK!”_

_“Get away from him!”_

**_“JACK!”_ **

Jack sat up with an intense inhale of breath. His hands flew up into his hair, trying to coax himself to calm down. He hadn’t experienced that memory in so long; he thought it might have been over with as far as his brain was concerned. Obviously it was all vivid and clear as though it was just yesterday. He’d never forget his mom’s voice, and never forgive himself for his mistake.

Jack’s alarm for class had yet to go off, but he was mildly glad for that. He had to continue studying for the test, even if the nightmare had made his sleep not-so comfortable. Psychology was at ten, and it was just after eight-thirty now: more than enough time. He threw the covers the rest of the way off himself, his legs having twisted around and tossed them partially off in his sleep. With all the crap going on he was amazed he didn’t think of filming his terrible nightly encounters.

His feet touched down on the bedroom floor, one meeting chilled flat carpet, and the other something smoother. He shivered and stepped away, glancing down at the floor. While his hair stood up on end, something didn’t seem so surprising when he saw _The Great Gatsby_ open to a page. He swallowed, his heart still thumping from the memory-inducing nightmare, and forced himself to his dresser to find a clean pair of jeans for the day.

“Not surprised you didn’t finish that crappy book.” Jack mumbled as he pulled on the pair of jeans, as well as a t-shirt to go under his hoodie. He gets no response, naturally. “Or maybe you just left when the sun came up and read slow. How about that?” He’s not even looking at the foot of the bed, forcing himself not to. He took a seat at his desk, shifting his laptop back to make room for his book and notebook. The room was unsettlingly quiet, except for the wind whistling through his window as the hole was uncovered. Even with it being unsettling, knowing something might have been lurking around him, his focus was on studying, which was unusual to feel but much appreciated.

His alarm went off at 9:30, which would have given him plenty of time to shower and get dressed if he’d slept well. He turned off the alarm and yawned, reviewing his notes a couple more times. He glanced at his computer longingly, but knew it didn’t pay to turn it on at this point. He’d be back in his room by eleven anyways, and he didn’t have class until two. Monday’s were thankfully a light class day for Jack, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed Psyche and History.

A knock startled him almost out of his chair. He looked at his shut room door and swallowed hard, standing and answering.

“Hey, you filed a maintenance report, a window?” The man ruffed. Jack’s eyes widened in surprise but he forced a nod.

“Yeah, it’s been out for a few days. Someone threw a rock.” Jack offered unnecessary information. The man nodded.

“Right. Well, am I good to come in and fix it up?”

“I’m about to head off for class.” Jack raised an eyebrow. He didn’t want someone in his room while he wasn’t there, but he didn’t exactly want to have to deal with someone’s company while he was there.

“I’ll have it done by the time you get back? I’ve got the master key, so I can lock it up.” Jack nodded a little.

“Yeah, Okay. If you wanna get your stuff all set up I’m leaving in just a few.”

“Perfect. Hope ya haven’t been freezing lately.” Jack wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t entirely true. He did like the cold, just not the goosebumps and shivers that didn’t help his situation.

“I’m fine.” He waved him off, and the man went to get his tools and the window, he assumed. Jack shut the door again, letting out a sigh. At least the window was actually getting fixed. A wind chilled up his spine, causing him to turn back around into his room. His curtains barely moved with the wind, and his back still felt some kind of hair-raising sensation. Jack really cursed the irony of studying about the sensation chapter so heavily. He got his pencil and phone, stuffing them into his hoodie pocket. Walking by his bed one last time, he gave the book a kick so it slid a bit further under the bed. He didn’t want the eyes watching him so closely. The test was the only thing he’d let worry him right now, like a normal college student.  

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, Psychology was silent as the test progressed, and he didn’t have to hear Bitz’s grating voice for the whole hour. He’d finished his test in twenty minutes, eternally grateful he’d re-read section three that morning. He stopped at the school concessions to grab a muffin as a late breakfast and made his way back to the dorms. He brushed past a fast walking adult, and turned.

“Uh, sorry.” He uttered, even though the other appeared out of nowhere. He frowned when the man rounded and he saw it was the maintenance worker. “Oh, hey, am I good to go to the room?”

“Er, yeah, it’s, the window. Right. The window is all patched together. Bye.” He shuffled off with his bag of tools down the tile hallway. Jack raised an eyebrow and began to unwrap his muffin while the man hurried away. _Well, that was weird._ Jack headed back up to the second floor and jiggled the key for his room, letting the door swing open while he took a bite of the muffin.

He nearly choked on it.

The window was definitely repaired, thankfully. However, the book he had kicked under his bed was against the wall that had his desk, adjacent to the window. The pages were bent a little from the position, but more so, it definitely looked like he had been thrown at the wall where the maintenance worker was. Light was flooding into the room as the day wasn’t cloudy for the first time that week, and shadows were non-existent. Jack still felt something creeping in the dark crevices of the room. More obvious than the book, and the main reason he’d nearly had an episode with a muffin chunk, was the state of his room. The sheets were more of a mess than when he left them, practically yanked off the bed. The lamp on the side table was now on the floor, the light bulb cracked and thankfully not leaving much glass around. The chair for his desk was pulled back further than he’d usually need to move it for sitting. For anyone else it’d look like he was a slob, but Jack was aware this wasn’t how it was left just an hour ago.

Jack finally took a final, slow step into the room and let the door click shut behind him. The room was quiet, nothing stirring in his more than in shambles room. He tentatively reached onto his desk, keeping his feet far from the darkest area underneath it, and retrieved his laptop. _If something is in here, it’s coming from the bed and the desk._ He thought, recalling all the strange occurrences that happened by the bed, and more so how he saw shadows slithering underneath the structures into constant shadows. Still watching the room, Jack pressed his back against the door and slid down to sit, laptop resting in his lap.

 _Did you find anything?_ It isn’t often that Jack is the first one to message Myth, but he might as well skip to the point. Myth already begins typing.

**_Like I said, not much to work with. Are things getting worse?_ **

Jack looked up from his laptop into his room.

_Maybe. I might just be paranoid though._

**_C’mon, spill. It obviously has a good enough patience when you aren’t reading those e-mails._ **

_My room is a bit messed up. That might’ve been normal but I didn’t leave it like this._

**_So, maybe it’s just some poltergeist. College rooms always get haunted by weirdos that hated all the school stress and figure haunting it is alright._ **

_Doesn’t seem like it. I mean some stuff moves sometimes, but it’s usually harmless._ Jack took a few breaths, his eyes constantly darting over the computer screen to check the room. He sighed and went onto Tumblr, scrolling through the pages to distract himself. Myth went silent, probably called away by someone or running to his class without a word. Jack could hardly remember what times he had classes relative to his own schedule.

He’d lost track of how many times he would scroll, reach a new page, and look up and around his room. Once he’d reached the end of new posts he’d refresh and do it all over again. He browsed Youtube and marked his subscribed videos to ‘watch later’, not even wanting to make a noise enter his room in case he would miss some sign that he wasn’t alone. His efforts yielding nothing but an unsettled feeling, and as the time came he packed up his computer and book for History class.

* * *

 

“Okay, well, that’s the end of this section’s powerpoint…” The teacher at the front of the auditorium stared at the black screen he gave his information from. It was a half hour before class ended, and Jack could just hear all the hushed ‘yes’es throughout the room. “But, we might as well start the next section.” The audible groans in the group resounded, Jack even feeling one leave his throat. “I know you’re all excited, but at least those of you on your computers have another half hour on Facebook.”

Jack scoffed. It’s Tumblr, you git.

“So, those of you with your computers, I’d encourage you to follow along with the slides. You’ll find the powerpoint and an opportunity for extra credit in your e-mails, since I doubt you all checked before class today.” Jack swallowed hard, of course having to look up from his screen in time to see the teacher passing glances at all of the students on their devices, including himself. History wasn’t his best class and the extra credit would help him out but…

Did he want a C-, or did he want to face his fears?

He took a couple leveling breaths, glad that none of his classmates sat next to him, instead occupying the other end of the row.

Neither, he decided.

But if he didn’t open the messages from Anon, nothing would happen. He’d be perfectly fine.

While the teacher started pulling up the next powerpoint and lecture, Jack typed into his address bar. It took a few seconds to make his fingers respond enough to enter his log in information, and even more for his eyes to focus on the screen.

**You have (200) new messages!**

He swallowed. Max capacity? This Anon guy was plenty tenacious. Most of them didn’t have subjects, at least the ones he let his eyes briefly skim over before looking away. He couldn’t afford a panic attack in class. He checked the ‘select all’ box and erased them. The screen remained blank, but no message came up, until the loading bar vanished and lines of text scrolled down the screen.

**You have (200) new messages!**

His breath hitched at that. Tenacious, more like incessant. How many backlogged e-mails did he have now? He didn’t even bother checking if any of the messages had any importance to them, he erased them all. And the next batch after that. His hands were already moving in rhythm to know that once it loaded they needed to be gone.

**You have no unread messages**

He released his bottom lip from between his teeth, running his tongue over it to sooth the sting setting in. _So much for that extra credit_. He rubbed his temples a little in frustration. So maybe he was getting a bit carried away, but at least that meant that Anon had grown bored of him. Movement caught his eye and automatically drew his vision to the screen.

Sender: Anon

Subject: Welcome back Jack

The fingers at his temples slid down, covering the bottom of his jaw and his mouth. He forced his eyes to leave the screen and dart around the classroom. He was definitely still invisible to them all, sitting in the back row on the right with the nearest person too busy texting and chatting with the friend to their side. He gradually looked back down at another spark of movement.

Subject: Do not stray far from the light

Jack didn’t even have time to register it when another message came into the formerly cleared inbox.

Subject: Shadows dwell in this domain

The messages were coming faster than he could even hope to type.

Subject: HE comes in the deadest of night

Subject: And for your fears he shall remain

Jack’s hands fumbled to the deletion key, but the loading screen stopped his efforts short.

Subject: Dark are you dreams, to incite your screams

Subject: The boogeyman shall reign.

 

The screen stopped loading and the messages were gone, erased. None flooded in after that. Jack’s finger was trigger ready on the selection box, eyes glued to the screen, but nothing came. He heard students in their seats start to rise, the folding chairs creaking as the weight left them. Even so, it took a few additional seconds for his eyes to tear away to see that class had ended. He carefully shut the screen for his computer and pulled it closer to his chest, standing on shaky knees.

That definitely qualified as reading the summoning poem.

His feet were heavy walking back to his room. Class had ended, he had nowhere else to go. He hoped, wished, pleaded that Myth was talking out of his ass for once about summoning something with a few words. Words that he didn’t even need to _speak_ to work. If it was anything, they were repeating in his mind with every step he took.

_The boogeyman shall reign._

Inside, Jack wanted himself to harp about shitty rhyme scheme, about being melodramatic, but that Jack was curled up stuck repeating the mantra in solemn whispers. He didn’t even realize he’d made it to his room until he was standing in front of the door, just staring. He shifted the laptop so he could get his keys, finally cracking the door open.

Daylight was flooding through the room, and whether the shadows had realized Jack was aware of their presence, or that his eyes weren’t being the sharpest for detail right then, everything looked normal. Well, as normal as it could look. It was still in a state of disarray, since earlier that day he hadn’t bothered going around cleaning the place. The book was still thrown, his papers disheveled on his desk, his sheets in a bigger mess than he’d left them. Jack stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, his fingers gripping the edges of his laptop. Nothing in the rom gave away something had happened while he was gone. The sun was already low in the sky, given it was three, and the nights were getting longer. He dreaded the thought of not being able to sleep through them.

After standing still for a few moments, he crossed the room and set his laptop on the desk. When nothing gave, he moved to the window, leaving the curtains open, and picking up the book. It went back onto his desk, but he doubted he’d read it for class tomorrow. He went to the other end of the room and straightened his papers out. He needed to recycle them soon anyways, but he could do that any day. For now he just didn’t want to be reminded of how they were strewn over the top of his dresser instead of in a stacked piled next to his notebooks and textbooks. Finally the only disorderly thing left were his sheets.

Remembering the creeping shadows that predominately flooded under the frame, the thought of the boogeyman didn’t sound so ridiculous.

The last thing he wanted to do was get near them. He turned on a heel and grabbed the stack of papers to recycle. Any day was right now. He grabbed his keys and his student ID, thinking he could go to the lounge and orders some sugar coma inducing shake just to keep him away from the room for however long he could.

 

* * *

 

Jack found himself walking back upstairs, stomach full of two Heath bar shakes from the university lounge. He’d arrived and ordered, sitting in the plush recliners in front of the old TV watching Big Bang Theory. He didn’t particularly enjoy TV, but it was the one time a mind numbing sedative was needed. No one disturbed him, which he was still eternally grateful for. He had no idea what he might have looked like aside from haunted, and the adjective was quite fitting.

The sun had fallen right after five, but after checking his phone Jack realized it was now past seven. His head was still swimming and his stomach wasn’t feeling fit enough to go back down to dinner. The shakes would have to do. Before he even looked into his room he snaked an arm in through the crack, flicking on the light switch. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside finally, the door clicking shut behind him. Everything was still as he left it, and a sigh of content slipped out of him.

He eyed his laptop, wondering if he should tell Myth the truth about the poem, see if anything about a boogeyman could exist. At the same time he didn’t want to give Myth the feeling that he’d failed to follow a simple instruction. To his own defense, he didn’t even need to open the e-mails.

At the same time, Jack didn’t want his help at this point. He had been handling it fine, well, as fine as someone that was haunted could handle it. Myth was probably at dinner anyways, off to some new project and didn’t have time to be digging around for something as preposterous as a boogeyman. He opened his laptop anyway, holding his breath as the sleep mode vanished and was still open to his completely empty inbox. He typed in a different address, he didn’t even really think of which one, as long as the screen wasn't staring him in the face. Skype started up next, and he checked their logs.

Myth was set to away, and he cursed slightly. He must have gone to dinner, of course. Jack still didn’t think his stomach could handle the school’s food on a good day, let alone while it was flipping every which way. He glanced at his chair, the underside of the desk smudged with shadow, and he decided against it. After some debating, he figured getting some time away from the computer would be good for him, even once. He grabbed the _Great Gatsby_ from the other side of the desk and headed to the bed for some reading before class tomorrow, despite his lack of enthusiasm.

He threw the sheets back up onto the bed haphazardly, as long as they weren’t hanging onto the floor in such a mess. Finally, he flicked on the bedside lamp and put his knee onto the edge of the bed, letting himself turn and flop against his pillows.

Except he didn’t.

A firm, nothing-feeling latched onto his other leg. His knee on the bed bent enough that would let him fall onto the bed regardless, but the sudden yank did not allow gravity to go into effect. One second Jack was ready to be comforted by feathered and flattened pillows, and the next his lower half, and therefore the rest of him, was slipping over the edge. _The Great Gatsby’s_ eyes flew into the air and dropped near the end of the bed, and Jack’s back landed on the hard carpet shortly afterwards. A gasp left his throat from the shock of pain that did not help his mild headache, or the awkward position he’d fallen into.  

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, trying to back away from the bed, but the grip was still tight on his ankle. The feeling was literally nothing—no temperature, no texture, just some firm pressure that would not let go. He tugged again before his eyes lifted from his ankle in time to see shimmering, golden eyes glinting up at him from under the bed.


	6. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack's fears are put out on display for him, but does he accept them, or shove them away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this up early, so I figured I might as well post it early! Sorry that more drawing deadlines will be creeping up on Author J here, but once we get past this phase of the fic, I have a full plan of where this story gets propelled. So I hope you guys are strapped in tight. Enjoy~

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He could practically feel his eyes become the size of dinner plates as they started to burn from not blinking. What felt like hours later he let out the breath he was holding, swearing it wasn’t anything like a _whimper._ The grip on his ankle vanished, or at least he figured it did, since his back was pressed against the opposite wall in an instant. Forcing himself to blink, he refocused now that the golden stare wasn’t boring into him. The tussled sheets from his fall blocked the edge of the bed from where he sat now as he recovered. Okay, so there was definitely something under his bed. Something that may or may not still be—

He instantly flew down to his hands and knees, looking back under the bed around the sheets. Underneath his bed was complete darkness that seemed to wobble in his vision, but he couldn’t see the eyes again; the eyes that seriously looked like the ones that had been in that e-mail days ago. His breaths turned into panting, and he swore if the floor was hardwood instead of back-breaking old carpet his breath would be throwing dust up into his face. He sat back on his heels, blinking away the image of eyes burned into his own.

Even when the room was deathly silent, he knew that the feeling of not being alone wasn’t just a feeling anymore.

He didn’t think his voice would work enough to call out to whatever he just saw. Hell, he didn’t think his mind would think that was the most sensible thing to do right now. He rose onto shaky limbs and managed to make it to his computer chair and collapsed onto it. The screen loaded fast, that or he was lost in his thoughts longer than he believed.

 _I’ve got to talk to Myth,_ His mind finally stringed together something coherent. Jack’s body seemed to agree with a short nod and his hand settled on the mouse, opening Skype. He didn’t even take notice to what his friend’s status was set to.

_You there?_

Jack’s breathing stuttered as he didn’t instantly receive a response. He stared at the screen for a long, hard minute, before the message “Myth is typing…” appeared on the bottom.

**_Just got back from dinner. Where were you this afternoon?_ **

_I need ot talk, or somethng. i had to open my emails for clllass today.._ His fingers were trying to keep pace with his thoughts, but he didn’t bother going to fix his typos.  He took a couple breaths while Myth composed.

**_Okay…do I not like where this is going?_ **

_My inbox was to max capacity, like six times. And then when it was empty the subject lines made the poem._

Another long pause made Jack realize his hand was fidgeting on the side of his keyboard.

**_Are you serious? Like, right in the middle of class?_ **

_Yeah._

**_What’d it say? Do you still have them?_ **

_I’m not going to tell you. Apparently just reading them is bad news._

**_Oh my god. Frost is something going on right now?_ **

_Define going on?_

**_Don’t be a wise ass._ **

It looked like Myth would continue typing from there, but he stopped. Apparently that was enough to break through Jack’s shell, and he knew it. Jack wasn’t very comfortable knowing Myth had learned how to deal with him from however many miles away.

_Okay. So I think something might be in my room._

**_Define something?_** He wanted to punch through his computer screen, but he figured he deserved that. But how was he going to describe this…thing? He only had one word and it wasn’t exactly one that he’d care to share.

 _Like the boogeyman._ A chill swept over his feet and he pushed his chair back sharply. He didn’t look down into the darkness that no doubt shrouded the space under his desk. He simply spun his chair around backwards and sat Indian style in it, watching the monitor closely.

**_You’re serious?_ **

_That was in the last line of the poem. Figured that’d be the closest thing to a lead you were looking for._

**_That would make sense, at least. If you had nightmares, it shouldn’t be a sandman. As for your room being a mess, I guess that’d make sense too. They like instilling fear._ **

Jack scoffed a little. He wasn’t afraid of a little ghost. Another chill went up his spine and he bit his lip. Nope, not one bit.

_It tries too hard then. Anything about getting rid of one, like doing some kind of ancient rain dance to reverse the poem?_

**_I’ll look around some. A lot of my books didn’t even mention that kind of spirit, so I doubt there’s an anthology about them._ **

_Look it up on Amazon if you have to. Please._

**_On it._ **

Jack finally cracked each knuckle on his fingers, the shaking stopped. He didn’t know what else to say to Myth, and figured saying nothing meant he could go around reading like a nerd. He at least hoped Myth took this seriously. He was the one to initially suspect summoning something into his room. Wherever that something was, it didn’t seem to make any remark about pulling him off of the bed, let alone letting Jack _see_ it. Perhaps it was a game. Jack licked his lips so they weren’t as dry. He was always good at games, but now he was stuck in a corner.

But maybe that’s what it was waiting for:  waiting for him to go to sleep, when he couldn’t help but lose his cool in another nightmare. Jack frowned. That didn’t sound like his idea of a fair game. He took a deep breath and got out of his chair, legs stiff from sitting on them. He glanced around the room, still seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Carefully he picked up _The Great Gatsby_ where it had fallen carelessly as he had.

“Could’ve said you wanted to read it.” His voice felt weak, but hoped it didn’t sound like it. He straightened, running his fingers over the smooth paperback lining of the book. He held his breath, trying to hear something, _anything._ Yet nothing gave: the room remained still, as if he was alone. Jack was smart enough to know that wasn’t the case, unreasonable or not. Even so, when nothing answered his call, he took another few breaths. It wasn’t here now, or was just perfectly content ignoring Jack like it had been all weekend. He felt like he’d been haunted for weeks, not just a few days.

He took a seat in front of his laptop again, finally releasing his grip on the book and let it drop onto his desk. He didn’t know what to do about this thing, or _spirit,_ Myth favored to call it. He didn’t know what else to do but wait until it left, or until Myth found something he could use to get rid of it. He also didn’t know how he’d get enough sleep to function for class tomorrow. He watched the computer screen, but Myth was set to busy, probably off digging in his shelves for anything he may have missed. Jack hesitated before typing his favorite web address into Chrome. Maybe pictures of bunnies would help.

By the time he got through the new posts only a half hour had passed. It was just past eight and Jack kept eying the window. Even with the curtains drawn open, no moonlight shined in. After some further inspection he realized it was because it was a new Moon, and it was blocked out by darkness tonight. Jack felt that was dramatic irony if anything. His English professor would be proud, even if he didn’t read Gatsby. Still, he didn’t want to go get a late dinner now, not while Myth could soon turn some information up for him.

He looked back at the computer screen, refreshing Tumblr once more. He sighed, craving distraction but unable to really think of an activity. Funny, having billions of options thanks to the internet, and at a loss for what to do. He seemed to be at a loss for many things as of late.  Myth still wasn’t replying, but Jack dare not pester. But his only friend was gone looking for information. Unless he wasn’t, unless he thought Jack was crazy and was going to end up avoiding him after this. Everyone else thought he was invisible, anyways, aside from the girls wanting to study.

“Can you hear me, Jack?”

His breathing and mental mutterings ceased. Brain functions quieted and he literally thought nothing. Nothing but repeating the question a very close and very _real_ voice asked him from somewhere in the room.

“You _can._ Miraculous how your body language gives away your every thought…just like your fear.” The voice was silky, dark, and still _way too close_ even in the empty and bare expanse of his dorm room. Shivers went up his back, hairs standing on end, but he dare not remove his eyes from the laptop screen. A low chuckle answers him and he swallows, mouth suddenly dry again. “You saw me, Jack. I saw that look on your face. And now you hear me, yet you ignore me. What a childish way to face your…problems. You think me a problem?”

Jack’s chair swiveled so fast it creaked, and he was on his feet, facing his room. The place was empty, just leaving his heart hammering harder behind his ribcage, trying to burst out. _A problem. This…this thing. It’s a problem and a pest and Myth can get rid of it. It isn’t just my imagination—_

He got the feeling of goosebumps all up his body when a burning hot breath blew over the back of his neck.

“I’m your fears, Jack. Problem is such an understatement.” The voice was but a murmur that loomed over his shoulder and ear. He whirled around; thankful he was nimble enough to not trip over his own feet. This time something, _someone_ was actually there and he couldn’t stop staring, as though if he were to blink he’d be gone. _He_ was tall, taller than Jack by at least a head if not more with slicked back dark hair. Jack wasn’t sure where shadow started and ended, draping from his shoulders and dipping down his chest before pooling and materializing at the floor, the fabric looking sheer: if it was even fabric. More eerie was his skin color being a deathly tone of pallid grey, and yet his eyes were a vivid eclipse of gold and silver slivers that were very much alive and looking through Jack like a book he’d already read. This man’s eyes did something to Jack, because his legs just felt like cement on his floor as he made the eye contact. The figure smiled, a cruel and wicked quirk of his thin lips before opening his mouth just slightly, Jack spying jagged teeth.

“Boo.”

Jack found out he could still move and took another step back, just managing to tear his eyes away from the other’s.

“That was really underwhelming for a grand entrance,” Jack breathed, just managing to find his voice. The figure said nothing, though he seemed to tilt his head to the side ever so slightly. Jack eyed him again, trying not to make direct eye contact, for fear of freezing. Even the thought made him shudder and the other smirked widely down at him.

“Interesting.” He was eying Jack like there was something particularly intriguing about him, more like he was a piece of meat for a starving animal.

“Interesting? What’s interesting? Yer fashion sense?” Jack held his breath as he blinked, and as suspected, the figure did disappear. However, he reappeared from the corner of his room around the back of his dresser. Jack spun on his heel so he could keep both his eyes on him.

“No, your fear is interesting, and ever shifting. Especially now,” the man smiled again and took a step forward, Jack taking two back. “You fear what I am, and how I know you. More so why you feel so frozen when you look at me, and you fear me getting too close to you.” Jack couldn’t withhold a gasp as the back of his knees hit his bed. “And yet under all that you have so many more delicious fears. You’re practically _saturated_ in it. It’s some kind of mystery how I haven’t been here before…”

“You talk an awful lot,” Jack responded, maybe a second later than he would’ve liked. The man gave something of a ‘hm’ in his throat, before disappearing again, sinking into the floor. Jack thought he was gone, until the space where his shadow cast from his overhead lamp wavered, as if trying to break the lighting physics themselves. His shadow cast across the floor and painted up the wall, tendrils of shadows starting to curl away from his silhouette until it was no longer recognizable. With one final extension, the light switch was flicked down. Jack felt every muscle in him tense up as the room became encased in darkness, his shadow on the wall just blended into the rest of the room.

“And you are a little too old to be afraid of the dark.” The voice seemed to bounce off the walls, Jack’s eyes trying to follow the echo. “Not that I will complain. Your _nightmares_ were hardly this satisfying.”

“What are you doing here? I don’t—”

“ _Jack…”_ the voice came from the other end of the room, making his eyes dart across. “You really aren’t that bright, are you? Surely you have some kind of _guess._ You’ve been talking to my shadows, I fear they’ve just driven you senseless and mad.”

“You’re the boogeyman, then?” Jack almost whispered, and just caught the end of a sigh.

“That’s such an atrocious name that’s stuck. But, yes.” Jack felt the shadows lapping at his ankles from under the bed, threatening to drag him under and never come up to breath. He held his breath but straightened out his shoulders.

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t think you’re inclined to be asking me anything, Jack.”

“ _Why?!_ ” His voice nearly cracked at that. The shadows ceased their assault of climbing up his calves and he ventured a step away from the bed’s edge. “I-I didn’t used to have nightmares, and I sure as heck am not afraid of the dark! I’m not afraid of _anything.”_ He accentuated each syllable, looking around the room for any sign of the other figure. Silence grew in the small room, Jack only hearing the blood rushing through his ears.

“I’m not inclined to answer any of your foolish questions, either. Go to sleep, Jack.” Jack jumped to the side, his hip hitting the corner of his side table harshly. The boogeyman was leering over him again, having materialized just next to him.

“No way, so you can creep on me and watch me sleep? Fat chance. I’m finding a way to get rid of you.” Jack lifted his chin defiantly. The man screwed his mouth to the side, feigning annoyance. He raised a long, bony hand and made a flicking motion with his fingers, and Jack blinked as a burst of something hit him right in the face. Jack raised an arm, trying to wipe whatever it was from his eyes. “What the-“

“Hush, hush…” A firm shove sent his back onto the bed. Panic started to flood through him again, but all his muscles started to relax, and he couldn’t stop rubbing his eyes. “Such a long day you’ve had…a long week, even. There, there.”

“You son of a bitch what did you-” his voice was stopped by a yawn in his throat. If he had the energy to flex his fingers enough he would claw his face to that they pulled away from him.

“Sleep, Jack.”

“I-I’m not tired.”

“Such a child,” the spirit seemed to sigh in an aggravated manner, not that Jack could see his body language. His eyes refused to open and the pillow under him felt way too good.

“Go away!” he forced his voice to push past how tired he felt. All his limbs were like lead, as if he’d climbed three mountains in a day. He was so exhausted. What _did_ he do today?

“Staying away now that I’ve found such a rich source of fear is going to be quite impossible now, Jackson. You should learn not to invite those that you don’t want in.”

Jack wanted to scream at him until he vanished and took the shadows with him, but his voice just left him as a sigh as his head relaxed into his pillow, sending him off into his dreams.

Rather, nightmares.

He was in a crowd of people. They were much too close, just brushing at his shoulders as they hurried past him. He swallowed hard and tried to walk in the direction he knew he needed to go, but he never gained any ground. If anything, more people just came up to block his way. He snapped angrily as someone gave a particularly hard shove past him. His eyes finally settled on a head of long wavy brown hair, standing by a park bench. Relief flooded into him as he pushed through the last of the people.

A grip tightened around his wrist, yanking him back. A firm iron grip from a man much older than he was dragged him away, back into the swirling crowd of people. He tried to scream and shout for his mom, but she never turned her head to see her son being pulled away. Everyone was way too close, talking too loudly in his direction, and yet not really seeing what was happening to him. The grip yanked him down, several hands sprawling out from the ground to drag him down through the earth in a black, tar-like pit. He struggled, his limbs sluggish and sore from thrashing but he still tried thrashing harder, only sinking faster. It tasted acrid on his tongue as he was pulled down further, taking a final lungful of air before being sent down blindly into darkness.

Jack flew out of his bed, stumbling over the floor and crashed into the bathroom. He wretched out the two Heath bar shakes that served as his dinner the night before. No matter what it was, all he had crawling down his throat was the horrible taste of tar and fear. He heaved out nothing but air for a few lurches, before forcing himself back onto his feet. He fumbled with the faucet and got a cup full of water, washing out his mouth though the aftertaste still burned the back of his senses. The running water of the sink was cupped in his hands and splashed on his face, trying to shake away the feeling of tickling sleep in them. He finally looked up into the mirror, seeing the dark circles forming under his eyes, and whirled around to look into the bedroom.

He wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or not, but the room was empty. It was still very early, earlier than he’d ever get up on a school day. The moonless night was still cast, and he squinted to see the digital clock that said 4:39 a.m. He eyed the bed warily, somehow thinking he’d see a pool of tar and hands grabbing at him, threatening to drag him under at a moment’s notice. He stomped out into the main room, ripping open his drawer to obtain a clean set of clothes, before reentering the personal bathroom and slamming the door. He was taking a shower and no amount of sleepiness was going to stop him. 


	7. Screams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns to deal with his newest follower. Unfortunately it isn't on Tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your longest chapter yet, posted early as a thank you for the 100 kudos! Just sit tight. Next chapter may be a surprise for all of you. Thanks again!

Jack didn’t go back to sleep. It was much too early to be awake for the day but it was more bearable as he spent an hour in his too-small shower. The sun was creeping up as he exited the bathroom, steam pouring out into the room and Jack feeling too warm, fully clothed in his layers among the steam. The room was still as silent as he left it, especially now that daylight was starting to spill in. He stayed in the doorway of his private bathroom and inwardly groaned. He had English at nine and was not looking forward to dealing with his least-favorite teacher while this tired.

Jack did not go back to sleep.

He sat with his back against the door to his room with the _Great Gatsby_ at his side and his laptop on top of his folded legs. Numerous times he’d lift the book and try to get his reading done, but the letters started to blur and that tingling feeling of sleep behind his eyes threatened to take him. He’d always put the book down and turn the music up on his computer, trying to shock himself awake with sound cancelling headphones. A quiet pause between two songs allowed him to hear some kind of scratching noise, and he forced himself to pause the music and look up from his computer screen.

It wasn’t surprising that he didn’t see anything. Regardless, he pulled the headphones away from his ears and continued to hear the scratching. He resisted gulping, setting his laptop down without a sound and scooting himself over next to the bed, not quite crawling. He carefully lowered his shoulders enough to peer under the bed, more afraid that being so close to the ground would persuade him to lie down and not get up.

Golden eyes caught his own and also his breath. He hated that feeling of dread and panic that just flooded into him with a simple look. He forced his face to turn into a scowl when in the dim lighting he saw a quirk of the spirit’s lips. He was running his bony fingers on the underside of the bed frame, creating the heard annoyance.

“You’re a pain.” Jack said, not giving the spirit the chance to retort. The small smirk was gone from the other’s face even before Jack grabbed his pillow and propped it up on the side of the bed, blocking his view. He turned on his knees to return to his laptop, and he did _not_ gasp when he was greeting by a tall shadow.

“Am I?”

“Asshole is more befitting if you want a title.” Jack pushed himself up to stand, still much too short for his liking. The sun was casting in and yet the older being kept away from the beam, drenching the other side of the room with his shadows. Jack swallowed the bile and aftertaste of tar in his throat as he felt the lapping at his heels again, tempted to drag him under.

“Yet much more demeaning than my bestowed title, brat.” The word left his lips full of spite, and Jack couldn’t stop a grin. At least he wasn’t the only one annoyed with his new roommate. _Roommate. That would piss him off._

“I’m not a brat. I don’t shove people into bed and watch them sleep or be an unexpected roommate.” The man of shadows shifted to be just that, more of a silhouette than his actual figure Jack could still eerily recall every detail of. “I’m sick of those nightmares. And you.”

“Are you scared, Jack?” the sound bounced off the walls again, but Jack kept his eyes at the tallest shadow in the room.

“Well I have to go see Chalmers running on no sleep. She’s scarier than you when I haven’t gotten my reading done.” He aimlessly flicked a wrist towards the book abandoned by his laptop. The shadows said nothing, seeming to twitch within the room. The sun started to peek in more, and the shadows began retreating to their usual place. Jack scoffed, keeping his chin up, feeling the oddest bit of a victory deep in his stomach.

A firm tug on his hood proved otherwise, sending him stumbling back into the bed.

“What a cruel fate to be afraid of one’s teacher. You _poor dear_. I’d feel such _pity_ letting you see her while tired.” He didn’t even see the shadows, but felt them shove him back again as he tried to sit up.

“Stop it!”

“Allow me to assist,” The voice darkly promised in front of him, a too-warm hand wrapping around his eyes, thumb and fingers reaching all the way to both of his temples.

Jack did not go to sleep. He was thrust into nightmares instantly.

 

“Jackson!” Jack lifted his head from his desk, blinking sleep from his eyes. Chalmers, a full-figure woman of her late forties held her bifocals in one hand and _the Great Gatsby_ in the other, thumbed open to a page. The other students in his Introduction to English class glanced up from their book, but delved back in. There were only a handful of English majors, but Jack never got a full number. This class of freshman seemed to only number ten. Still, Chalmers narrowed her eyes and Jack sat back in his hard plastic seat.

“Sorry, Dr. Chalmers.”

“I hope you were up so late reading for this pop quiz we have today,” the southern belle cooed, moving to her podium to retrieve her notes. Jack grumbled under his breath, the others in the room making no sound. It was another of those moments that all unwanted attention was on Jack, and he was promptly dismissed and forgotten. “Take out a sheet of paper and your pens, as well as your brains, and I’ll read aloud the questions.”

Jack grumbled again and pulled open the notebook that had served as his pillow, tearing a sheet out as loudly and annoyingly as he could. He scribbled his name on the top corner, yawning and forcing to keep his eyes away from Chalmers. Her voice could put him to sleep; her face would give him nightmares.

“Question number one,” She began, Jack rubbing his eyes again and staring at the tip of his mechanical pencil, some lead breaking off as he tapped it on the page. _“Get on with it,”_ he mentally mused and prepared when he heard the intake of breath.

“What is Nick’s relation to the Buchanans?”  Jack grumbled and scribbled down the answer. That was chapter one things, before he’d gotten completely fed up with the book.

“Question two,” Jack’s eyes jumped off of his paper and to the front of the room. The room suddenly felt like a sauna, and Jack’s classmates looked like silhouettes of men made completely in darkness. The boogeyman, no longer Dr. Chalmers, though he did have the book nestled on his long fingers, and did wear the cocky sneer she often did, stood at the front. “What business earned Gatsby his fortune?”

 _“You!”_ Jack snarled, rising from his chair. His classmates sprung up, causing his heart to stutter as hands grabbed all around his shoulders and arms, yanking him back into his seat.

“Now now, Jack, wouldn’t want to upset your precious teacher by not doing your homework. No outbursts in class!” He waved a hand, the shadow men turning into wisps, wrapping around one of his forearms and both legs to force him to stay in his seat. The boogeyman was still eerily draped in shadows, from his cloak to his skin color, but he looked surprisingly human. That’s what frightened Jack more as he tugged on his restraints.

“This is hardly a nightmare unless you’re dressed like that bitch Chalmers, boogeyman,” Jack ground out at him, though he couldn’t withhold a smirk from his lips. The spirit seemed to roll his eyes but jumped right back into his own game, even though his shadows were turning the classroom into a room with black walls and holding too tightly to Jack.

“Question three, are you scared yet, Jack? Or wishing you actually were in that woman’s classroom?”

“Hell no and hell no.” Jack said abruptly again, using his free arm (he realizes it was left free because of his pencil in it. Can’t answer test questions without being able to write) to try pulling a tendril of shadow from his forearm. It split into two and wrapped around his wrist, pinning it against the table with audible thud. “I think you’re just trying too hard now!” He gasped as another tendril split off and wrapped around his throat, gagging him with a firm grip. He struggled to take a few quick breaths from his nose, only allowed enough oxygen to stay aware. It just sent his other senses into overdrive, and the feeling of shadows keeping him in his seat was like every inch of them had needles scraping into his skin. He tried to throw them off, somehow, but the grip on his throat tightened and made his breath leave him in an embarrassing gasp.

He blinked away some dark spots in his vision as he was just allowed enough of a breath to stay conscious again. The boogeyman sauntered over on his thin, stilt legs until he was in front of him. The blood throbbing through Jack’s veins was enough to make it seem like he was a walking horror film. The desk was gone, but he was still sitting in some kind of chair. Whether it was the real navy blue plastic chairs that haunted him in class or was just some bed of shadows he couldn’t tell.

“Question four…” The boogeyman ran a clawed finger down Jack’s jaw before making his chin tilt up. Jack winced, already knowing some bruises would appear at his throat where the pressure only intensified. “How many times can I make you believe you’re actually awake before you’re screaming?”

Jack had a few quick-lipped answers come to mind but every second he thought of one the grip around his throat only seemed to tighten. He tried to suck in oxygen but a weak gagging noise only left him, and soon it felt like these things wouldn’t have any problems snapping his neck. Thoughts were gone: the only thing in his mind was how hard the things were pressing and how sharp the boogeyman’s claws really were. He hadn’t noticed them before, but didn’t get time to ponder if they ever were there earlier. He tried to take another breath, but darkness flooded his vision around a pair of bright golden eyes.

 

Jack woke with a start, his hands flying to his neck to find that shadows no longer encircled it. He breathed in oxygen a bit too deeply, but still felt like he needed it and needed it right then. _Just a…nightmare._ He swallowed hard as he thought the word, starting to sit up. A dizzy spell hit him for a moment, but resting sitting up appeased the light-headedness he experienced. He glanced over to where his computer was still at the front door to his room, by his book, and grumbled.

He stood, making sure his limbs could handle his weight before leaving the bed. He picked up his phone on the side table and flicked through it. The alarm was two minutes away from going off. He breathed some sigh of relief that’d he’d remembered to set it, but also knew that it wasn’t what woke him. He turned the alarm off preemptively and took a step to the door.

His feet flew out from under him and his arm only barely caught his head from crashing into the floor. With a yelp he was yanked back to the bed, or rather _under_ the bed, by his ankles. The phone flew from his grasp as he reached down to try peeling off the grip, but it only gripped his wrist and waist, yanking him a good two feet again. Jack ducked at the last second so his head didn’t smash into the hard bed frame, but part of him wished he had been knocked out. He could just make out the line of light from under his bed leading into the room, but it grew more and more distant. The shadows were taking him back to wherever they came from, which was definitely further away than the space under his bed allowed.

“Let GO!” Jack rolled his shoulders enough to free his other arm out from under him, tugging at the grip on his wrist and digging his heels into the murky floor. The shadows didn’t relent, giving another tug that lurched Jack a bit too quickly, making him hiss from the burn.  “STOP!” He gave a harsh kick, but his ankles became firmly restrained before he could even make contact with anything solid. The shadow around his wrist tightened, firm and large around his thin bones and his breath ceased for a moment. _No no no, too large too hard not this. NO!_ It sent a flurry of emotions through him and he tried prying it off again, only getting his second wrist restrained in the same grasp. Before he could stop himself a shriek left his lips and left the rest of him numb and trembling, feeling the swarms of people around him and the smell of confections and that _man_ and his hand clenched so tightly around his wrist. His stomach flew into his throat as he was dropped, eyes clamped shut.

 

Jack woke with a curse as he fell directly onto his jaw.  He groaned, bringing his arms up to push him off of the hard carpet at the foot of his bed he’d fallen out of. He still had goosebumps all over, his skin remembering the contact faster than his brain, but Jack was on his feet and away from the bed in an instant. A low, chilling chuckle came to his ears and he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or it really was just a low echo in his room, now with sun spilling in from the window. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to appease it somehow and likewise tame the directions his mind was running. He still felt the slightest tremble shudder through his knees and threaten to make him collapse. He wasn’t going to give _him_ the satisfaction.

He found his phone on the floor, the thought crossing his mind that it was where he’d been yanked under the bed, and moved to slip it back into his hoodie pocket. The spirit was definitely leaving the small details, keeping Jack on his toes wondering if this was reality or not. His hand froze around the phone and flicked the screen open just to prove his tired eyes weren’t playing tricks. Nine-fourteen.

“Shit!” He cursed, making one long leap to where his laptop sat in sleep mode and acquired Gatsby, shoving it under his arm and gingerly placing the technology on his desk. In a rush he grabbed notebook off his dresser and was out the door, dreading what Chalmers would say now for oversleeping because of a silly nightmare.

 

“Jackson, thanks for joining us today.” Chalmers says as Jack’s getting his notebook out. He sighed, having hoped that walking in late and getting no recognition would mean he wouldn’t have to hear her talk in his direction.

“Glad to grace your class with my presence.” He nodded to the freshman. Once he met eyes with a few of them he looked away quickly, back into his notes. Thinking of them turning into those nightmare men wasn’t going to make this class tolerable. If it was real. Jack started to think the boogeyman was definitely doing it on purpose, but if he held true to his word, he’d stopped when Jack screamed.

And he had. It hurt some distant part of his throat but was definitely a fresh injury in his pride.

He imagined heading back to his room at the end of classes for the day and being besieged by the shadowy hands that the spirit seemed to master, thrust into more nightmares over and over until he cracked. Part of him wished he’d been stronger than he had, and even miss class, but the other part dreaded being brought into another nightmare. If anything, it began to sink in that he wouldn’t be getting any restful sleep. His grades couldn’t suffer anymore, even if he didn’t care about Intro to English. The rest had to be perfect. He was used to running on low amounts of sleep, but fitful sleeping was something he hadn’t experienced in many years.

He rubbed his wrist idly while Chalmers continued her lecture, her words going Charlie Brown to his ears. He wouldn’t admit to being afraid. Nothing scared him; and he’d be defiant as ever to the spirit that dare invade his secluded life.

Class ended soon, and Jack wondered why he even bothered to go to English when he was nearly twenty minutes late. _Oh, right. A weirdo under my bed._ He got his things as well as a sharp glare from Chalmers, but he left the room at the end of the pack of freshman to avoid any long-winded scolding that would make him late for Psychology.

 

He took his seat in the back row in the least-squeaky of the plush chairs. It was a short walk to the auditorium, so only a fourth of the students occupying the room were there. Unless the rest of them had skipped, which was incredibly likely, but the double doors opened loudly as more students came in. Jack pulled the little folding desk out from under his seat, setting his notebooks on it with no intention of taking much for notes. In the back of his mind he figured he should, just to distract his thoughts from going back into the nightmares. The chair next to him creaked and made his eyes shoot over, surprised.

“Morning, Jack.” Jacie smiles brightly. Jack licks the inside of his lip, at a loss for words. She’s too much of a morning person, too carefree and sitting too close. It wasn’t as close as before in the lounge, but he was used to chairs being empty. Chairs around him were always empty why was she here?!

“Morning,” He nodded to her after a moment, twirling his pencil in his fingers. He just parroted her voice and still found it difficult.

“Sorry, is it okay for me to sit here?” She asks _after_ she’s already gotten quite comfortable, but moves in a way to show she may get up on command. Jack took a stilling breath and shook his head.

“It’s fine, take a seat.” He didn’t mean for it to sound as insincere as he actually felt, but Jacie nodded slowly. Part of him hoped she hadn’t picked up on it, but she was a training journalist.

“Thanks. You seem tired, have another test today?”

“No, no… just some reading for English.” He lied with a smile, Jacie’s going to its full effect again.

“Oh. Gatsby, huh.” Jack sees her eyes go down to the book underneath his hand. He hopes he isn’t shaking but the inside of him feels like an earthquake. This was still too odd, but it was in class, and what if people start to notice them? “That must be Chalmers’s class. She’s obsessed with that book.”

“Yeah, the fact I hate it just adds to her dislike of me.”

“I wouldn’t leave that past her.” Jacie smiles again and flips the corner of her notebook, looking for her page. Jack looks back to his feet, slightly propped up on the empty chair in front of him. The overhead lights cast down them, but there are no lights at the top of the auditorium, so none shine uncomfortably down on him. The shadows his legs cast blended into the one of his chair, and stretched behind him to where no lights were.

He blinked a few times, and soon he couldn’t make out the shape of his legs in the shadow. His breath hitched as he got the prickling sensation of goosebumps behind him.

“…Jack?”

“Huh?”

“I just…are you okay? If you aren’t listening to me it’d be a bit nice to know before I go off on a tangent.” Jacie frowns again.

“Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out. It’s a little cold in here today, right?” He rubbed his arm, where goosebumps had spread under his hoodie.

“You think? I thought they turned the heat up way too much for once.” She glanced up at the ceiling just behind them. Jack almost took in too sharp of a breath, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Carefully he looked up from under his hair to see the vents just behind them, dust blowing out. _Oh,_ he started to feel a bit ridiculous until he heard another chuckle behind him and saw some dark cloak shift just into his peripheral. He looked forwards instantly.

“Wouldn’t want to worry your lovely little girlfriend, would we?” He heard that voice, not even trying to be quiet. Jack’s eyes darted around the room in panic, not wanting to meet Jacie’s eyes until…he realized no one noticed. The boogeyman was as invisible as Jack was on a normal day. “Why, she’d think you’ve gone _mad._ But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d finally be left alone!” the spirit feigned shock, tone dripping sarcasm and something else Jack didn’t place. _Honesty_ came to mind and he shut it away. He was right. Jacie shouldn’t be around him and it wasn’t healthy for him to get that close to someone especially if he’s being haunted. It could start haunting her.

The doors shut with a louder clang as Bitz came into view. “Everyone, I have your tests graded. I’ll call you alphabetically, but let’s make this quick, we’ve got a large lesson to cover.”

The kids that were paying enough attention to know their names got up preemptively and made their way down to Bitz’s podium. Jack took a moment to remember his last name, because he was focusing more on trying not to think of what was shifting behind him and making the temperature rise while also giving him shivers.  

Bitz’s voice was drowned out with the light humming he felt in his ears, and tried to not look at the shadows. He heard the lightest noise that sounded like the dragging of cloth of the floor, and figured the spirit had grown bored and began to move around the back of the room.

“How did you feel about that test?” Jacie’s voice broke through his thoughts and he looked back at her. He realized it’d be awkward to talk to his shoes, and the last thing he needed was to look as creeped-out as he felt. He evened out his shoulders and sat back, pretending to be more relaxed than he felt.

“I thought it went pretty well. I touched up on section three a bit after I left the…study thing.”

“I felt the same. I guess we just helped out Dustin and Matt more on the first sections before you left. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, better than the other day, yeah.” He nodded.

“Convincing yourself more than the lady, aren’t you?” He heard the voice before he saw the source, but tried to keep his face blank. Jacie still didn’t seem convinced but smiled at him again, spinning her own pen in her fingers. Jack watched the slightest bit, wondering if it was some kind of habit, like with him twirling his earbuds on their cord. His eyes travelled up until they froze on that tall, looming shadow behind Jacie, grinning jagged teeth at him.

“Now you ignore me. Wouldn’t want your classmates to think you’re insane? No no, I think the reason is you don’t want them to look at you. Your fears are constantly weaving, Jack, like a trail I can follow in any direction.”

The words shouldn’t have surprised him as much as they did. That could be why this figure was following him to class now. Since things hadn’t turned terrifying, it could no longer be considered a nightmare. He was awake, and the boogeyman was following him. And making annoying comments on his day.

He swore he didn’t flinch when Jacie got up from her seat, shooting him a quick smile from the surprise that must’ve been on his face, but she headed down the aisle. She briefly phased directly through the boogeyman, not seeming to notice at all. Jack’s jaw dropped just slightly, a short separating of his lips as he took in the look the shadow man gave the young girl. It was some parts burning hatred and some parts… _something._ That was the second time Jack couldn’t pinpoint what the spirit was thinking. He stood up straight again and went behind their row of seats, completely out of the way, shooting Jack a vivid glare when he caught caramel following his strides.

Jack did look away at that, rolling his pen in his fingers. Why would this guy bother following him around if he was getting ignored? He couldn’t put Jack to sleep in class, well, he seemed to enjoy having his time with his nightmares, and not a quick nap surely to be interrupted by someone. He didn’t really want to dwell on the thought that someone wanted to take his time with him.

“Overland,” Bitz’s call broke his thoughts and he left his seat. He headed down the aisle quickly, since she was waving the sheet around, not amused that he hadn’t already been at her heels to collect it. He headed back up to the final row, trying to not make eye contact with the shadowy always-looming-like-a-creep man, now standing behind the two seats that were occupied, hands behind his back. Jack could hardly tell where shadows began and stopped with his cloak looking like that, but much like in his nightmare, seeing him there made him look…human. A weird looking human, but even when he scowled at Jack for venturing a glare up at him as he took his chair, or the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, it was quite a normal behavior.

Jacie said something to him; not that he fully paid attention to the syllables, but looked back at his test. An A- was definitely better than he’d anticipated, and he gave a small smile at Jacie’s congratulations as they compared answers. Even briefly distracted by the looming force casting ornate shadows over their work, neither student paid mind to it. 


	8. Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets more familiar with his roommate, though he shouldn't be so quick to trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for all the kudos and views QAQ;; Updates should be coming on Saturdays from now on if I get my act together.
> 
> Also, Next chapter is the one that should finally give you guys a taste of where we're going with this. So enjoy your routine chapter!

The rest of the week proceeded without significant incident.

There were incidents, definitely. But there was nothing ground-breaking that threw Jack for a loop. Things between him and the Boogeyman became routine or even clockwork.

Jack would wake up on every other day, daunted by restless sleep and nightmares that sometimes left him to wretch his dinner out before getting dressed for the day. The shadows would slither around the room as he dressed and grabbed his things. He’d made a habit of waking up earlier, just to make sure he could get to class and not be locked in a nightmare for too long.

Classes were dull, and most of his attention span went to staying awake for them. The boogeyman would appear in a particularly shadowy corner and simply observe, just waiting for someone to sleep. Jack realized that’s as far as his powers seemed to go, aside from the sudden jolts of fear he felt whenever making eye-contact. Thankfully the boogeyman seemed to have no interest in throwing Jack into a panic during his classes. At least not yet.

When classes ended for the day he’d shut the door and turn on all the lights, not that it much mattered. Sometimes it would just be shadows, other times the spirit himself would relax on his bed, overturning the lamp so it wouldn’t shine on him. Jack caught him reading Gatsby when he came out of the bathroom, once. It was a sight to behold.

 

The boogeyman was laying back on his bed, one wiry leg crossed over the other and his hair splayed like patterns in sand over his pillow. Gatsby was held in those bony grey fingers and Jack caught those golden eyes shimmer silver as they darted from page to page. He took some cautious steps over and forced a smile.

“So, how _did_ Gatsby get his fortune?”

His eyes jumped from the page to Jack’s sending a shiver up his spine. The spirit’s lips twitched into what might have been a smile, but it was gone as well as the rest of him. The shadows slunk back under the bed, but Jack had to chuckle as he took the book with him.

“You should take my test for me.”

“To be ironic, you are a pain.”

Jack laughed again and returned to his computer.  
  


They didn’t speak, except the occasional banter when shadows painted the walls, whispering lies to Jack to try getting him to sleep. It was an “other” day, which meant Jack was at his desk, screen bright and lights blaring down. He wouldn’t sleep. He could barely handle the nightmares every other day, he couldn’t afford any more. It was affecting his grades and energy but he couldn’t help it. He wouldn’t give in.

Shadow sand slipped over his feet and he tugged them back, kicking the back of his desk on reaction. He hissed at the sharp pain in his toes, but used it to keep himself awake. _It’s nearly four, you can do this, Jack._ The shadows moved over his ankles, but this time did not relent with his kicking. He frowned. He’d learned he could block the sleep sand and not fall asleep as long as he covered his eyes. Even if he’d likely get restrained.

He continued to type on the computer, trying to seem unaffected, even as a frown was on his face. The shadows went over both his ankles now, very warm and twirling up his calves, leaving that pin-prick sort of feeling through his jeans. He tried shaking them off again, but he desk chair was just tugged forward until his ribs hit the edge.

“Ouch! Knock it off!”

“ _Jack,_ you’ll never do well in class if you don’t sleep.” That way-too-low voice called from somewhere in the room.

“I’ll never digest anything or do well in class if I get assaulted by you, man.” Jack frowned but felt the grips slide up his calves and wrap tighter. He let out an involuntary hiss.

“You seem apt to call me the most ridiculous of titles.”

“As if I was given something in the first place, roomy.”

That evokes a strange silence in the room. It’s as though everything just grew quiet, even the whirring of his computer. The noise of silence is literally nothing, as if he’d been dragged underwater and no sound reaches him. The grip does not lessen on his legs, but it doesn’t make an indication of moving. Jack gets the feeling of chills over the back of his neck and he looks up. The aquiline plane of the boogeyman’s chin is looming over him. He is ridiculously too tall for Jack’s liking.

“I’ve been called many things. Nightmare King is a title that often precedes my arrival.”

“Or boogeyman. That’s still a mouthful.” Jack lifts his hands from the computer. He may need to use them if the Nightmare King (as he called himself) flicked that sand at him again.

“You are not supposed to become familiar with me, Jackson.”

“And yet you’re following me everywhere for the sake of it. Why are you, anyways? Don’t have a kingdom to rule or bow before you in fear?”

The ground beneath him vanished.

It was the second his skull collided with the floor that he realized it was the chair that he’d been ripped out of. Jack groaned, a hand moving to cup the back of his head as he rolled onto his side. The room moved the opposite way and he used his second hand to steady himself. He managed to roll over enough to shoot a glare up at the boogeyman, who had moved over towards the window, peering out of it as the moon had begun to show again in the sky.

“No. I don’t.”

That was the third time Jack couldn’t place what was in the boogeyman’s voice. But it tasted distinctly familiar. He worked hard on an adjective even through the throbbing in his head. Wistful? Or sorrow? Or something deeper?

“Fine, but if you’re going to hang around and _not_ give me brain damage, I want a name.” Jack pressed, sitting up and crossing his legs on the floor. The shadows had vanished once he’d fallen, and he hadn’t felt safer with the boogeyman within three feet of him before. The king without a kingdom looked over his shoulder at Jack, his eyes gleaming silver like the moon behind him. Jack swore they used to be gold, but nothing was explainable about the spirit. When he just kept his lips pursed together, Jack stood up carefully, making sure the room didn’t move with him. “C’mon, ya gotta have a name. If I don’t get one, I’ll just have to try being more familiar with my new roomy.”

The “familiar” glint of gold in his eyes returned as he aimed his gaze at Jack more harshly. The boy simply smiled and lifted up on his toes, then back on his heels. _I can do this all night, boogeyman._ The spirit turned, going back to Jack’s bed before disappearing under it. Jack frowned, eying the spot for any way to see him again, but he was only met with the emptiness of under his bed and some lingering creeping shadows. He grumbled and righted his chair, taking a seat, and scrolling his dash once more.

It wasn’t minutes later, it was hours. It was at the moment where Jack was so near to sleeping he wasn’t sure he heard it. The shadows creeped back over his feet, making him stir from his almost-sleeping position at the keys.

“Pitch Black.” The dark voice nearly whispered. Jack made some kind of hum in his throat, rolling the words over in his head and realizing what they meant. He rested his head back on the desk and let his eyes drift shut, just for a rest. His alarm woke him an hour and a half later, and though he was still tired, a nightmare did not occur.

The week ended with that being the most significant event.

Saturday and Sunday went by with zero conversation. The boogeyman disappeared sometimes during the day, when the sun peeked through the white, snow-filled clouds. When he returned there were no words, or even motions that the other existed. Things became rather normal, and Jack was mildly worried that he was getting too familiar with the boogeyman— _Pitch._ He wasn’t as intimidated by the creeping supernatural things occurring in his room. His head told him he shouldn’t let his guard down so easily, but the other part of him was thinking the boogeyman would get bored if he stopped giving him what he wanted. He assumed it was that fear he got from his nightmares.

Surprisingly, the Boogeyman was giving him some reprieve, and he was allowed a few hours of healthy sleep. If he slept for over four hours it seemed the spirit couldn’t help but make him thrash in his sleep.

Myth hadn’t turned up anything, but Jack never mentioned it to him. He didn’t mention that he was living with the spirit was wanted out as soon as possible, and Myth never questioned him. Jack got the feeling of dread that meant his friend had given up searching and assumed Jack was making it up to play a trick on him. He didn’t talk to Myth a lot anymore.

Wednesday came shortly. It was a chilly day and the snow was finally falling. Jack had the deep urge to run outside and let the light snow banks swallow him, but he decided against it. Instead, he came to his room after class and threw his books down. Pitch always beat him back from class, and was leering at him from the corner next to the doorway. Jack dug around in his small school closet and pulled out a winter scarf his mother had knitted for him a long time ago. It was different shades of blue in intertwining zigzags, the end having the tassels of leftover threads. He wrapped it around his neck and stuffed it inside his hoodie before moving back to the door. He nearly smacked into the spirit as he had glided in front of the doorway.

“Going out?”

Jack smiled an award-winning grin at him. “Why, jealous? Or just saying you’ll miss me?” He leaned to the side in time to dodge an orb of black sand that was flicked towards him. The boogeyman frowned, some slight surprise on his face that an attack was anticipated. “I’m going for a walk before it gets too dark.”

“Because you’re wary of the dark, or what resides in it?”

“Please, that doesn’t really scare me. I just want to be in the snow.” Jack stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket. The same incredulous look was on Pitch’s face, and he looked like he might speak. He just ground his jagged teeth together, clenching his fists, before he disappeared into the shadows once more. Jack raised an eyebrow, but made his way out the door.

The school grounds weren’t that large, but the pathway surrounding it went in a loop all the way down the hill towards town. Jack stuck to the main sidewalk weaving through the different academic buildings before follow it down the hill, taking in the fresh feel of an approaching winter. The sun was just starting to make its way down and painting the sky orange by the time he reached the bottom of the hill. The way up went around the back of the school, and wasn’t as steep. He walked around and passed by the park he’d intended to visit with the lake surrounded by trees, hearing noises.

There was loud chattering, but it didn’t sound like young kids. Jack wondered if the ice had even frozen on the lake, but followed a branching path down into the park. He passed the lake, seeing the ends tinged with frost but nothing substantial. It wasn’t that cold, yet, but overnight things could probably freeze. Something whizzed past his ear and made him stand at attention, the noise around him suddenly completely nearby and not so distant to him.

“Jack!” His eyes snapped over to Jacie, waving her arm enthusiastically. She wore what she had on in Psychology (she still sat by him, after all) but with a light green jacket around her shoulders. He waved his hand lightly back as he saw other silhouettes getting closer. Hazel, Belle, Dustin and Matt, among a few other faces Jack couldn’t make out. He was just stuck looking around them until he realized Jacie bounded up next to him. “Um, what’s up?”

“Was on a walk. What’s up…here?” He glanced back out at the field littered with some trees. Dustin was giving him some odd look while wiping some snow off of his cotton gloves. Jacie smiled widely at him.

“We came down to have a snowball fight before dinner. Just for fun, you know.” Jack nodded. Snowball fights were another thing he genuinely loved about the winter, but he loved everything about winter. He didn’t get to do much for snowball fights, since his sister was no good at them. “Want to play?”

“Hell yeah,” the words left him before he could even think of repercussions. Didn’t he want to avoid people as much as possible? It was just a bit of fun, and he had wanted to get out and experience the snow. “Are there teams?”

“Nope, it’s a free for all.” Jacie got a grin and picked up a pile of snow, and Jack saw the other students doing the same, if they didn’t already have a snowball ready to hurl at him.

“Whoa, Okay!” a smile broke out on his face as Jacie’s amateur-crafted snowball exploded on his arm. Matt and Dustin didn’t hesitate to attack each other, while some others he didn’t know when to seek some cover. Jack sprinted behind a tree before crouching to form a few snowballs of his own. He took his phone out from his hoodie pocket and stuffed it into his jeans instead, already knowing it would fly out if he jogged again. He crept back around the corner once he had an arsenal in his arms.

Hazel was nearby, aiming at the back of another boy Jack didn’t know. Once she let it go, he threw one as well, hitting her straight in the back. She whirled around and gave him a grin that could only read ‘it’s on’. Jack smiled similarly back at her and went back around his tree. He heard her footsteps coming after him, and he took off behind another tree, taking and making a shot on Dustin when he wasn’t looking. He was behind the tree by the time Dustin looked around for his attacker, getting hit in the chest by one of Matt’s cheap shots. Matt whooped in victory in time for Jacie to throw another small snowball into his side.

They were having fun, and it felt great to do something so childish.

He rounded the second tree and waited until the crunching of snow under shoes got closest and let loose a shot. Hazel backpedaled and wiped snow off of her face, letting out a surprised yelp. Jacie and the others nearby looked over, and Jack froze.

“Shit, I um..sor…” He didn’t finish the word when a snowball hit him in the face too. He sputtered and wiped it away from his eyes to see Hazel grinning victoriously at him, cheeks red from the cold. She stuck her tongue out at him and lifted an arm to throw another at him. Jack laughed and kicked himself back onto his feet to flee. The others laughed and ganged up on Jack with Hazel, pelting him with snow. Jack slipped around the back of another tree, nearly clothes-lining himself on a low-hanging branch. Without thinking he hopped up onto it, climbing further up the tree just to see his classmates try surrounding him and seeing nothing.

“Hey, Jack! No fair going out that way!” Jacie called out to the area of the park that the lamps didn’t reach. The sun was already setting quickly, Jack wondered how long he’d spent getting down the hill and wandering through the park. He was going to call back, readying a snowball, when shadows from the bushes reared up in front of the students menacingly. Their tendrils shot out like tree branches towards the students just on the threshold of light. Belle let out a shriek, Hazel, Jacie, Dustin, and Matt just taking a step back. Jack’s eyes widened as he saw the tendrils of shadows creeping out from the crevices and what looked like little creatures slipping out from behind the trees.

Without thinking, he let loose a snowball. Jack could see it hit the boogeyman directly on the cheek. The kids just saw it hit the bark of the tree he was standing by. Their eyes were instantly on Jack, wide. Hazel looked over at the tree under her hair before she flung a snowball up towards the branch he was on.

“Cheater! You throw like a girl!” The snowball she threw looped over the end of the branch just below Jack, and fell to hit her on the shoulder. Belle gave a slight giggle and Jack smiled at them, trying to ignore the heated glare burning into him from the darkest area in the park.

“Says the lady that just got owned by her own snowball!” Jack stood on his branch, just grinning as Jacie took a step forward, worried. “What’re you guys standing around for? I thought this was a free for all!” he dropped the two remaining snowballs from his arms down on them like hail, watching them scatter.

“Knock him out of the tree!” Matt whooped as he and Dustin instantly began forming snowballs. Jack grinned, stepping towards the trunk of the tree careful and graceful, before swinging down. Landing on the ground hurt and sent a shock through his legs, but he disregarded it to avoid the bombardment of snow being thrown in his direction.

 

While they played and went back to having fun regardless of what loomed in the shadows, Jack still knew he was being watched as the sun fell.

It was definitely at least six or seven when they finally all resorted to leaning against a tree and laughing about their game. Even Dustin and Matt seemed to have a good time, which should have surprised Jack more, but they seemed the competitive type.

“I can’t believe you hit me in the face,” Hazel pointedly says to Jack, as he shrugs.

“It was an accident. I said sorry but got a mouthful of payback.”

“Yeah, that one was definitely on purpose.” She grinned back at him and he laughed. Jacie had her hands stuffed into her jacket, smiling and listening to the talks.

“Should we get to dinner?”

“Yeah. They got a hot chocolate maker too!” Matt already began marching back up the hill. Dustin rolled his eyes but smiled, following after his friend, though he gave Jack a slap on the back as he went by. Jack’s eyes widened and he looked at him oddly. Dustin didn’t pay any attention as he followed the park lamps. Belle and Hazel pushed off of their trees and followed, Jack doing the same as Jacie sidled up next to him.

“That was a lot of fun.” She smiled and Jack nodded. Of course they’d already established that.

“Yeah. Glad I went out on a walk.”

“Aren’t you cold?” She looked him over, hoodie and jeans dampened from romping in some snow. He shook his head.

“I feel fine. But hot chocolate sounds good.” Jacie smiled up at him before looking back to her shoes, the ends of her jeans clumped with snow from dragging on the ground. Jack didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. They made their way up the hill and into the dining hall, sitting at a large table with hot chocolate and dinner.

 

Towards the end of dinner when conversation about the snow died down, Jack realized what had happened. He took a few steadying breaths, trying to push back the doubting thoughts flooding him. How could he have been so stupid, going out to the park alone? He didn’t know a lot of the people there, but they’d stayed out of his way and left early, anyways. The girls didn’t seem too bad but were much too friendly. Unsettlingly friendly, and now the jocks were talking to him like an old friend. Even more, he realized the boogeyman himself had tried to put an end to their fun, and nearly succeeded. He hoped no one really remembered that occurrence. Pitch would remember, and he was prepared to be torn apart when he went back to his room for hitting him with a snowball. Shame the place he considered safe all this time and had gotten comfortable in now seemed more like a deathtrap.

Jack got up, having finished his meal long ago. He waved to everyone and headed back upstairs. Jacie followed him to the dorms, saying she lived on first floor women’s. Jack didn’t really know what to say still, and thus, didn’t. By the time he got to the men’s stairwell Jacie stopped following him.

“You did have fun, right?” Jacie asked, and Jack turned on the stairwell, holding the door open.

“Of course. I love the snow. It was a good time.” Jacie smiled again, burying her hands in her pockets.

“Well, we could all try it again soon, if you want to come. I can text you whenever we want to go?” Jack swallowed hard, turning the idea over in his head. Going out with people, again? Not just a school-related session, or a random run-in? He’d always just been left alone, so why wasn’t it staying that way? He didn’t need friends and he didn’t want strangers that close to him either.

“Jack?”

“I- uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t have my phone on me right now. I’ll try remembering for class tomorrow. I just got a lot of homework to catch up on.” He took a step up the stairs, not wanting to see the smile disappear from her face. So much for a fun night.

“Well, I could just add your number to my contacts now…”

“Oh…it’s a new number. I can’t really remember it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you in class, then. And get some sleep so I don’t need to punch you awake again.” She gave a weak laugh before waving, unconvinced. Jack returned it as the heavy metal door to the stairwell shut. He sighed and trudged up the stairs, hand in his hair. That wasn’t even the hard part of tonight.

He got up to his room, inserting the key into the lock and jiggling. He held his breath as he opened the door. He didn’t even get a chance to turn the lights on before his arm was grabbed and he was yanked into the room with the door slamming behind him. He gasped and nearly fell over, but was pinned against the wall with a hand pressing him back by the collarbone. Golden eyes glared into him and didn’t even need to say any threats to know one was made.

“Don’t even, you creeped up on them!”

“If anything I was preventing them from lingering too long in the dark. Fear can be good, especially when little humans are having too much fun.” The voice hissed down at him, and he felt the claws digging into him.

“So you were jealous! It’s not like I planned to run into them there. I just wanted a break from all this!”

“You don’t need them, Jack. I can read your fears better than you can. You despise how friendly they are to you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Jack snapped, trying to push the boogeyman’s arm away, and just ended up getting his wrist pinned against the wall. _That_ wrist. His heart thudded as he eyed where it was pinned against the wall and he gave a few meager tugs. The Nightmare King simply smiled, moonlight somehow only coming into the room enough to illuminate his teeth and bright eyes.

“No, Jack. You’re _terrified._ Saturated in fear because no one has ever told you better. And you deny it because you misplace it. You’re just _worried_ about them leaving you, worried they won’t leave you alone. Just anxious to get out. That’s not worry or anxiety, Jack. That’s _me.”_  Jack tried to get his arm back again, while avoiding looking up at he who called himself fear. “Fear helps children know when to stay away. Or, it breaks them when they age.” He released his wrist and Jack pulled it close to himself. “You’re broken. Shame when you were young you had so much _fun_ I couldn’t be there to give you that healthy dose of nightmares.”

Jack wrenched himself out from under the boogeyman’s hold, still holding his wrist close and went to his dresser, digging through it. He and Pitch said nothing, but he knew he was watching him as he pulled out a set of dry clothes. He went across the room into the bathroom and slammed the door once the light was on.

He removed his soggy clothes with haste and turned the shower on high, drenching himself in the liquefying heat. He hated how warm his room was, how much heat the boogeyman gave off whenever he was around. He was inhumanly hot, and completely inhuman. He was fear, and if Jack could push off his fears all these years, he’d get rid of their source too.


	9. Mr. Sandman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a fitful night's sleep, followed by a phone call and a startling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I finished it early, I decided to let you guys have this chapter. Feel free to visit the fic's Tumblr where I may post BlackIce week related fics!

After Jack successfully cleansed himself of a layer of skin cells and the memory of his most recent encounter with the boogeyman, he exited the bathroom. He opened the door with confidence, stepping back out into the room and letting steam pour out and dissipate in seconds. He threw his snow-dampened clothes into the hamper in the corner before venturing a glance up into the room. He was greeted by a snowball-sized ball of black sand, and he was falling to a heap in the floor just as the spirit assimilated by him.

Jack groaned and sat up in a pile of snow. It was freezing and burned into his overheated skin from the shower that felt like moments ago. He looked around and found himself in the park, under a tree at the edge of the clearing. His leg throbbed from the impact and he looked up, seeing the swaying branch of the tree he had balanced on during the snowball fight. _Did I…fall?_

Shrieks of laughter entered his ears and brought his vision forwards once more. Dustin, Matt, Jacie, Hazel and Belle were chasing one another around the field. Snow exploded around them as they laughed and shouted challenges at each other. Jack pulled himself up the side of the tree as he watched them play, a small smile coming to his lips. He was nearly too slow to dodge the snowball that hit the tree just next to him, the spray of fresh snow still hitting him on his clean clothing.

“You throw like a girl!” Hazel scoffed at whoever threw the snowball, their eyes not going to Jack for a second. Jack got a grin and leaned down, packing one of his own perfect projectiles and encroaching on the group. He raised an arm to let loose the snowball, when Jacie stumbled back, her shoulder passing through Jack’s side. A gasp tore itself out of his throat as he scrambled back numerous steps. His hands went to his shoulder, tracing his ribs and side, the snowball dropping at his feet.

“Jacie?” He found his voice a second later, but she stumbled away again, uncoordinated as she dodged a flurry of snowballs. She returned to packing a couple new clumps of snow, still making the worst snowballs Jack had ever seen. “Jacie!” He stepped towards her again, and let out another gasp as Hazel ran directly through him, just half a foot shorter than him. He clenched his chest as if struck, nails digging into the cotton of his sweater. It was like being run through with a blade, but the blade just took a piece of himself and kept going through. Jack felt pieces missing just from the girls going through him as he caught the breath that was stolen from his lungs.

Part of him knew they’d leave. They would forget him once they’d used some part of him that might’ve been useful, even for something as fickle as a snowball fight. His chest hurt more than it ever had in his life, and he still felt that pressure making him short of breath. He nearly gave a cry of pain as Dustin and Matt ran through him a moment later, sapping more energy from him than he thought possible. He dropped to his knees in the middle of a crowded field, feeling completely alone and fragmented in the snow.

 _This is a dream_ , he reminded himself, trying to steady his breath. It didn’t help the pressure at all, and he was still clutching his chest in pain. This was new— an unfamiliar and unopened wound torn apart by the nightmare and it hurt just the same as if it had been a familiar stab. _They aren’t real_ , he reminded himself, but still staggered to his feet and retreated to the edge of the clearing. The unlit portions just near a fading lamp post offered him enough comfort to soothe his urge to be alone.

His back hit the metal beam of the lamp that was glowing a dim orange above him. Jack finally dropped his hands from his chest, breath coming easier to him away from the group of classmates. _This isn’t real_ , Jack said to himself in a mantra, as if the thought would make the pain flee faster. He felt carved open on display for anyone that would look over at the light post, if they could even acknowledge him. He took deep, shallow breaths until he’d calmed down, the burn still in his chest but pushed aside. He’d dealt with worse nightmares: nightmares that dragged him into complete blackness with no voice. Nightmares where he was drowned, something even he didn’t want to admit fearing. He’d been in tragedy, his home on fire, or even the silly things like being stuck in a loop of school work and unable to remember anything but his name. Even in those circumstances, Pitch was always looming nearby, leering down at him. This time was different; he was completely alone to enjoy whatever form of payback the spirit would dish out.

“What’re you doing out this late, sport?” Jack’s blood froze, the warmth of the shower long forgotten. He was still watching the snowball fight, their shouts of joy all but a whisper in the distance now. “It’s alright, they won’t miss you. They’re having their own fun.” The voice of the man of his past was still eerily familiar, even if he hadn’t been in his nightmares in weeks. A hand gripped his wrist like iron and drew a startled breath out of Jack as he resisted.

“Let go!” The pressure on that wrist was unbearable, something even he couldn’t stand over a decade later. The grip didn’t relent; it just made Jack’s eyes follow the path up the other’s arm to the form of the man he could still remember. His face wasn’t illuminated by the lamp, but Jack could never bring upon a face to remember from that day.

“You want to be alone? We could have much more fun together!” It tugged him again, harder, making Jack stumble before regaining his firm stance.

“ _Stop!_ Let go!” His free hand went to pry off the larger fingers of the hand with a vice grip over his wrist.  It was slapped aside audibly, and Jack’s breath hitched in his throat. The arm became infected with obsidian trails, fingers turning into abstract claws creeping up his skin. He tugged more fervently, trying to break away, but was wrenched further out into the shadows away from the light. It flickered above him, threatening to go out. Tendrils shot out from around him and grabbed his arm desperately trying to free the other. _“No!”_ Jack shouted and grounded his feet firmly in the dusting of snow. He tugged back with all his might through his shoulders, knocked off balance as another firm grasp wrapped around one of his knees. He buckled, kicking and thrashing, only resulting in all four limbs having some scrap of shadow wrapped around them.

Further into the darkness he was pulled until the rest of the shadow fleet came in, rising up like a tidal wave and crashing over his still-struggling form. The grip on his arms tightened as well as his legs, restricting all movement aside from pained shudders. Jack’s throat grew sore from unmonitored shouts of ‘no’ and ‘let go’ among other strained efforts of escape. The pressure was more pinpricks over his skin, literally feeling like it was burning him more than a shower ever could.

He clenched his jaw against the pain, gritting his teeth and dreading a visit to the dentist in a few months’ time. He tried to resist the grasp over his arms again, until tendrils coiled up around his waist and up his torso. Jack’s back arched, trying to avoid the constant constricting feeling that came with it. They finally rested over his throat, leaving him pinned where he stood for who knows how long. What felt like agonizing minutes might have just been milliseconds, until his chin was pulled uncomfortably up between two just-as-warm fingers. He dared to open his eyes to look up at the figure that he was unsurprisingly presented towards. Jack’s body so close to snapping as the grip on his chin brought him to a breaking point where he could no longer struggle or shift backwards without his entire skeleton buckling.

“Are you afraid, Jack?” the voice broke through all the noise his blood was making pumping through his veins.  His heart was near to bursting just from how rapid it was beating and Jack felt like he was in a cold sweat, unable to tell with the surrounding heat from the darkness enveloping him. He could barely make out the form of the nightmare king looming over him, until the shadows around his throat lessened enough for him to inhale a breath of fresh air. He didn’t realize his senses had been cut off like that, but even so, his brain was unable to think of much else aside from the pain and the question asked of him.

“Nn…no…!” Jack ground through his teeth. The answer seemed unsatisfying as he was constricted tighter, the burning on his sensitive wrist sending the hammer of fear through him again. “I-I’m not a-fraid of y-you!” He managed to bark out at the older spirit. The bonds around him relented, Jack dropping and let his sore bones fall into the snow. It practically felt like he was melting in the cold comfort it offered from the onslaught. The hand on his chin jumped up to fist itself in his hair, drawing another sharp gasp from him. Jack didn’t have the strength to tell if he’d been hauled out of the snow, or was just left limp like a puddle.

A shiver shot down his spine as he felt a breath over his forehead, his eyes clamped shut since he-couldn’t-remember-when and he heard a sharp inhale. The pounding in his heart almost covered it up, but it was just barely audible and made Jack’s brows furrow. When he’d finally managed to open his eyes and dare a look at the flustered expression of the Nightmare King, a knocking rang through his ears.

“Hey, Jack?”

The boogeyman frowned and glowered at Jack with brilliant topaz eyes that shined brightly with hatred from the street lamp illuminated behind him. Jack took gulps of air, eyes wide. He blinked, and opened his eyes to see the same color as his dorm room carpet. Another set of knocks reached his ears and his hands thrust up under him, pushing him onto all fours. He was in his room. And someone was at the door. He ran a hand through his hair but scrambled to his feet, answering the door.

The resident student assistant stood in the doorway. Jack couldn’t remember his name or what time it was and _why the hell was he at his door?_ He looked worried and Jack suddenly realized he must look like a mess after crawling his way out of a nightmare from the floor of his room.

“Hey, uh…you alright?”

“Yes, fine.” Jack breathed, and gave a nod. His neck was stiff and sore. He decided against nodding again.

“Oh, alright. Well uh, It’s past quiet hours so if you’re gonna shout you should tone it down? Or just not do it anymore…” Shouting? Jack must have been crying out in his sleep and he swallowed hard.

“Oh, sorry…I er, get too into my games sometimes.”

“Right, okay…at least you weren’t screaming bloody murder. But yeah, quiet hours. Thanks.” He gave a forced smile and headed back down the hall. Jack shut the door once he’d started to take a step away and placed his back against it, fearing his legs would give way if he didn’t. Once he’d allowed himself some reprieve and oxygen, he shuffled back into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face, sighing in contentment as it eased the burn in the back of his eyes. He impulsively let his head go under the faucet and run more reassuring water over his damp hair, getting it wet once more. Once the chilled water was giving him goosebumps, he turned it off and wrung out his hair. Jack glanced back up into the mirror to meet the haunted and pale expression of himself. His brown eyes seemed duller, and his hair was of course a mess. His sweater was askew from the fall and where he must’ve gripped at it in pain. His skin was normally pale, but he felt one step closer to death with how much paler he looked even now. He continued to stare into the mirror until his breathing evened out, and by that point the sun was breaking in through his curtains.

Good morning, Thursday.

After he dragged himself out of the bathroom he didn’t dare going near his bed, his tired eyes peeled for any movement in the room. His phone alarm nearly made him overturn his desk in surprise until he realized it was just time to get to Algebra. He swallowed down a drink of water from the cold faucet before he forced himself to class.

He’d be lying if he said he was focusing on lectures. As much as he tried the nightmare was still too real and fresh in his mind. It was something unique compared to the previous ones but it had _hurt_ , and he knew the boogeyman had every intention of hurting him in the future. He was glad to get reprieve from the spirit while he dozed in class, dreading the thought of being back in his room. Thursday was his packed day of classes, going through them all in a trance.

 In Psychology Jacie had pressed him for his number, and in the end he’d simply handed her his phone to enter her number, his fingers too shaky to do it himself. Every time he met her green stare he felt that emptiness of her walking right through him again. Jacie seemed to notice something was off, but instead of pressuring him for information, she left their conversation short and simple. Jack was grateful for the smallest act to help sate his need to be alone. Jack passed up lunch, unsure if his stomach would be able to handle it even hours later.

His other classes flew by, people drifting past him like he was a wayward soul unseen by everyone, but he didn’t dare risk reaching out to see if he’d truly drift right through them. He was a haunted ghost in the hallways, floating from class to class until his feet took him back to his room and hands unlocked the door for him. He stepped in and flicked on the light, clouds having overcast sometime during the day and brought more snow.

The room was still and quiet. Even if Jack made his eyes focus on a dark spot, it did not waver. He was finally alone. He dropped into his computer chair, running fingers over his temples while the computer booted up, and even continued when it went into sleep mode minutes later.

 

That night he talked with Myth idly. Most of it was about trending stories on Tumblr and the like, and not about the spirit wreaking havoc in his room every day (except today). He was letting Myth find him a link to a song he’d grown attached to when the phone in his hoodie pocket began to vibrate. He nearly bolted out of his chair but pulled it out, the device still shaking as Jack realized it was a call. He flipped it open and held it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie.” Jack felt a smile grace his features at the warming honey-smooth voice of his mother.

“Hi mom. How are you?”

“Oh, as good as I can be. Work has had me running all over setting up some function for corporate.” She let out a sigh and Jack simply gave a ‘hum’ as a response. He knew his mom stressed out over work a lot, and it led her to work more hours that she would’ve liked some weeks. “But, I did have a reason to call you. Your Thanksgiving break starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

 _Oh,_ Jack blinked, his fingers drifting to his computer mouse and over the calendar. Thanksgiving was a week from today, but the school had made them start early this year and granted replacement time this week. Starting tomorrow he’d be free from school until the Monday after, and everyone in class was pepped up for it. Well, he assumed they were. He barely remembered getting to class today. “Oh, that snuck up fast.”

“I know, right? Soon you’ll be done with your semester. Hope you’re embracing that college life you have while you’re there, time flies!”

“You were saying, mom?” Jack always had to keep his mother on track. With work running her ragged she forgot things all the time, however unintentionally.

“Oh, right. Well, work has me out planning this corporate thing, and Emma has a choir recital I completely forgot about on Saturday. I’d love to get you Friday so we can go together but by the time work lets me off their leash we’ll miss the recital.” His mother announced, filled with grief. Jack frowned, knowing that the car drive back home would take at least three hours. It would be selfish to have his mother abandon work so soon to come get him, and they wouldn’t make it in time for his sister anyways.

“Yeah, that sucks. But it’s alright. Gotta keep the suits on their toes and all that.” Jack responded, though his mother didn’t. “It’s really okay, mom. You’ll come on Sunday?”

“Yes, Sunday would be perfect. I’ll come get you in the morning and we can prepare for a nice dinner. You could take Emma out for some fun while I get that ready. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds great, mom.” It did, and Jack was eagerly awaiting Sunday. He’d be free of the stuffy dorm room and smothering students he had no interest in indulging. His family was who mattered, even if they were never deeply invested in his life either.

“Great. I’m sorry, baby. Emma can sing for you when you’re here if you ask her. She missed you when it started snowing.”

“I missed her too. Is she there?”

“No, she’s at choir rehearsal. The instructor wants them to do this medley, and then start for a Christmas recital right afterwards. I’d hate to be in his shoes.” He heard noises that must have been mom fumbling at her desk sorting papers and typing at the keyboard.

“Yeah, really. So, I have a couple extra days to pack up some of my crap. Just call me when you leave home on Sunday so I can venture when you’ll be here. I’ll let the res-life director know I’ll be here until then.”

“Perfect. Anyways, I need to get these faxes sent out and make a few more calls. I’ll call you again if anything comes up but it shouldn’t. See you Sunday, honey!” She was talking hurriedly, as if someone was approaching her desk.

“See you, mom.”

“Love you!” The call ended with a click and not with Jack reciprocating the proclamation.

Jack finally left his room to get dinner and met with the resident life director at that time, giving notice he’d be there a few days later than he anticipated. When Jack returned to his room the shadows still did not give any indication of being alive. He let out a short sigh, eyes stuck on the edge of the bed. All he saw was some scattered dust and wrinkled blankets. He sat at the computer desk, never feeling a chill up his spine. Within the next few hours he let himself fall back onto his bed, welcoming any mind-numbing sleep he could get.

When his phone clattered to the floor in a vibrating panic, Jack just let out a groan. He threw the covers off from over his head and flailed his arm pathetically over the edge of the bed, finally meeting smooth plastic. He picked it up and silenced the alarm. Letting out another sigh he realized it was time for the newest horror of the day—taking a chapter test in Chalmers’ class. He leaned out from the side of his bed to peer under it once more, precautionary only, of course. When he saw nothing, he rolled out of bed and got dressed for the day, eyes no longer lingering on the shadows that housed nothing but cobwebs.

 

“When you finish your test, you’re free to leave.” Jack wanted to do just that: _leave_ once he heard the woman’s voice and get the test over with. He hadn’t studied as much as he wanted and even forgot to sparknote in his time not sleeping. _It’s not like my grade can get a whole lot worse._ The only thing that was his saving grace was that Chalmers seemed to take pity on this class of students. She had multiple-choice and fill in the blank, not just essay questions. There were three of those, and everyone knew a novel would have to be written in perfect form before she’d ever even think of giving it a passing grade. Jack was doomed, but with multiple-choice he could make his attempt a little less pitiful.

Jack started circling the answers that sounded the best. The undisturbed sleep last night had helped his focus, but his mind was still foggy over the last week. Had it been a week, no, it must have been longer. It was hard to believe he hadn’t seen any e-mails since the day he was haunted, and now his specter had gone too. The idea nearly made him grin in class, the thought of normalcy washing over him.

And then the tide pulled back and left him with resounding loneliness.

Jack didn’t need or want people. Couldn’t even handle most of them, really. He wasn’t sure if normalcy would offer any comfort, if things went back to how they were. So why was he so alone?

He circled another answer, dragging the pencil a little heavier than he had on the last marks. He was too familiar with the spirit that plagued his sleeping habits and yet he knew nothing about the man. Was he a man, even? If he was real, what else was? Had Myth’s belief really been actuality, and there was a veil that they could step across so easily? He turned the page over to the fill in the blank section, his eyes barely comprehending the questions.

He got a slight chill as he stared at the paper for half of a minute. The chill creeped up the back of his spine and to his neck, and he made himself take a steadying breath. He frowned at his paper, looking up with his eyes. He was still invisible to his classmates that were scribbling away. His eyes darted to the corner where a particular mass of shadow was pulsating. Jack’s shoulders stiffened and he carefully made himself more comfortable leaning back in his seat, trying not to gain the attention of his classmates. As expected, a dark shadow was just in his blind spot, looming over his desk.

“You’re hardly going to pass your test like this, boy.”

Jack felt a grin tug at his lips, keeping his eyes on his desk. He didn’t much care for what people thought of him, but smiling at a shadow might appear a little weird. His classmates hadn’t seen Pitch all the other days he walked with Jack, and today was no different. He scribbled a few words on the line.

“Pray tell what is so amusing?” The spirit taunted, only making Jack smile wider. He bit his lip to make it appear like he was just thinking, when in reality he had no clue what he was doing. Jack didn’t know how to respond for a long time, but he gradually flipped open the next page of his test. He scribbled on the back of the fill in the blank page while open to his first essay question.

‘I’m surprised to see you stalking me again’

Jack wrote and read the test question. He was sure the boogeyman had ignored him, and went to erase the message.

“Surprised, you seem rather pleased.” Jack frowned at that, brushing off the pencil shavings. The spirit gave a low chuckle that made Jack shift awkwardly. Jack continued to scribble out some horrible introduction to his first essay.

“My, you really have not been doing your studies.” Pitch was teasing him now, as if Jack was the one that had disappeared for over a day. He rolled his eyes, scribbling on the back page angrily.

‘If you’re so smart you can write it for me.’

“Please. I do not _help_ children. That’s a Guardian’s work and I will not sink so low as to write an essay.” The boogeyman retorted with spite. Jack cracked a cocky grin at him. He had no idea what he was talking about but it was sure worth a shot at getting him to lend a hand instead of standing there ominously.

Jack didn’t reply and Pitch didn’t tease. Jack finished his horrible scribbling and drabbles a good ten minutes before his next class, which was enough of a reprieve. He handed it in to a disapproving looking Chalmers and exited the room swiftly, his second shadow following. With his class on the other side of campus he walked through the tunnels, figuring his shadow might run off and be grouchier if he walked outside in the heavy snow. Though that sounded amusing he didn’t want to tempt him to cause another horrific nightmare.

It was equally amusing to walk down the halls once the other classes let out. While Jack waited outside the classroom door, Pitch stayed away from him, but within sight. He shuffled to the side as people walked past, the ones that got too close to him. His composure was falling apart as more and more continued walking past, oblivious of his looming form. When the crowd dissipated finally, he slid over to where Jack was, always trailing behind him. Jack looked up at him, curiosity brimming in his eyes as he entered the empty room.

“Why can’t they see you?” He whispered as he took his seat in the corner, where the shadows were darkest. Pitch took his place there, composure back to one-hundred percent.

“They don’t believe, Jack.” His voice was a low, solemn note that made Jack look over at where he stood. He kept his golden eyes away from Jack’s staring out the window instead as snow fell and piled up outside.

“Believe in you?”

“It is a catch, of what we are. Everyone fears, but not everyone believes in the monsters that haunt the darkness. They may believe in what I stand for, but it does not make them believe in me, or make them _afraid_ of me.”

“Then why can I see you?” Jack blurted out the question, voice slightly higher than a whisper. His classmates began filing into the room at that point. Jack pulled out his notebook, looking down at his desk when the spirit didn’t reply. What did he mean, “what we are”? As more students came in, conversing amongst each other, the more Jack tumbled the thought around in his head. Finally, he was deemed with a response, since he could not speak aloud any more.

“I don’t know.”

 

Class ending for the day came slowly and with silence from his follower. Pitch seemed to pace behind him through the halls, dodging other students as he went instead of simply teleporting. It was disconcerting to say the least, especially since he’d been leaving Jack alone for some time. He practically gave Pitch a tour of the school grounds just getting back to his room, unlocking the door. He armed a grin and stepped back, holding the door open and making a gentlemanly motion for his lady to enter first. Pitch simply glowered, dropping into the shadows and appearing back in the room.

“Do not think I am at your beck and call, brat.”

Jack shut the door after stepping in, dropping his backpack and keys on his desk.  “Thank god for that, I wouldn’t know how to call a ghost to scare some bullies for me.” Pitch frowned but kept his statuesque pose in Jack’s room. His lips thinned, as though he had thought of several dastardly retorts, but was holding them back quite well. Jack took a seat at his computer and began his routine, with his follower in his room again.

 

Night started to fall by the time Jack stood from his desk. Pitch was by his window, looking out as snow had stopped falling, the sky clearing and showing the stars. His eyes seemed to burn with some emotion as the moon was getting fuller each passing day. When he caught Jack watching he resumed pacing gracefully through the small room.

“Don’t you have any hobbies?” Jack asked, crossing his arms. Pitch gave him a piercing look that clearly insulted Jack’s intelligence, but said nothing. “That doesn’t include stalking people and giving them nightmares? Did you just leave me alone yesterday to do that to someone else?” Pitch frowned from where he was, still keeping his tall poise, hands folded behind his back as usual.

“I do not answer to you, either.”

“Well, some things I ask you answer. What did you mean by, ‘A catch of what we are?’” Jack rounded on him, taking a few cautious steps closer. “Are there more? Not just story book things?”

“Oh, Jack. You knew them quite well once upon a time, I’m sure. I will not indulge their names on you though. I don’t want them getting another fickle believer amongst them.” Pitch snarled at him, like something distasteful entered his mouth.

“My friend knows a lot about spirits. When I started having those dreams we thought you were the Sandman.” He realized he called Myth a friend, but didn’t dwell on it as Pitch audibly scoffed.

“How insulting to compare a king to that man.”

“He’s real? The sandman?” Jack paced forward again, the curiosity in his eyes lighting up even in the face of darkness. Pitch glowered at him, taking a few steps away, towards Jack’s bed. He feared he’d vanish under it again and frowned, but the spirit remained.

“Yes, he is.”

“So then, are you guys friends, dreams and nightmares? I guess not huh, you’re kind of an asshole.” Jack beamed his set of pearly whites as Pitch shot him a withering glare. The smile was ripped off of his face as he was struck with the crippling dose of fear the Nightmare King could inflict upon him. He whimpered and his stance shrunk, though he cursed once the shock wore off.

“Quite.” The King replied, and Jack swore he heard some amusement in his voice, whether it was from Jack’s fractured boldness, or being an asshole.

“Wow.” Jack smiled, rocking back on his heels before he paced in a very Pitch-like manner. “So, all those stories and songs are based on something. You too, huh.”

“Naturally.” Pitch seemed uninterested. Jack beamed at him again as he paced back to his computer.

“I did sleep pretty good last night though. Not that you’d like that much, being the asshole you are.” Jack grinned, typing at his keyboard with intent. Pitch didn’t respond aside from some unnatural hissing somewhere behind Jack. Finally, he pulled up the link he’d wanted to find and a girl began the introduction in four different octaves. He kept the volume lower out of habit, turning on the spirit and grinning.

 _“Mr. Sandman. Bring me your dreams.”_ Jack chuckled at the murderous look the boogeyman shot him. He recovered in time to whisper the next line.

 _“Make him the cutest, that I’ve ever seen!”_ Jack’s voice didn’t fit too well with the girl’s, and he honestly had given up singing in the shower long ago. His little sister was his source of musical inclination, and without her his aptitude lessened. It was coming back fiercely now, if just to vex Pitch.

 _“Give him two lips, like roses and clover.”_ Jack hopped over to the window, moving the curtains aside to see the snow glistening in the moonlight, the satellite glowing just outside his window.

“Turn it off.” Pitch growled, though Jack wasn’t one for reason. If anything it just encouraged him more as he pulled the curtain further away, feigning falling over and having the curtain to hold him up.

 _“And tell him that his lonesome nights are over!”_ Jack straightened before he actually fell, his voice having gained more enthusiasm to accompany the girls with his tenor.

 _“Sandman…I’m so alone. Don’t have nobody to call my own,”_  He frowned shortly, glancing over at Pitch as he started to move towards his desk, eying the computer like it was some alien technology with the video playing.

_“Please turn on your magic beam. Mr. Sandman bring me your dreams.”_

The point between verses with quiet strumming was cut out by the sound of Pitch’s hand hitting the desk with a solid thud. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin, meeting liquid gold eyes cutting through him and sending the shivers and fits of terror through his veins.

 _“Mr. Sandman…bring me your dreams.”_ Jack tore his eyes away from Pitch’s, following the length of his wiry arm to the desk. His eyes only widened as he saw Pitch had tried to slam his hand on the keyboard, but his hand has passed through. His wrist simply went transparent as it touched the computer and had hit the next solid object below it. He brought his eyes back up to Pitch’s, who’s glare had not let down at all.

_“Give him a pair of eyes with come-hither gleam.”_

“Do not test me, Jack.” Pitch said low in his voice, a tone that resonated through Jack’s bones and gave him an unfamiliar shiver. He nodded and moved to the computer mouse, watching as Pitch’s hand retreated from its place and he stopped the video. His room went silent as the music stopped, and the wind ceased blowing outside. Jack heard Pitch’s robes shift as he walked away from the desk, but Jack felt himself lurch forward and reach out for him.

His hand clasped around the boogeyman’s forearm, causing him to turn his head and shoot another menacing look. Jack swallowed, trying to find the right words.

“You know what it’s like to be alone too, right?” They fell out of his mouth. It seemed so obvious now. How no one saw him, how he avoided familiarity, why he didn’t know why he hung around Jack but Jack knew. Jack was the only one that could see him, and Pitch was the only one to know what made Jack tick.

Pitch wrenched his arm free of Jack’s grip, turning away without so much as an insult. He disappeared under the bed, the form moving around a moonbeam creeping into his room from the thrown open curtains. Jack sighed and sat in his chair, looking back at the computer. His blood went cold when another realization struck him.

If Pitch couldn’t touch the computer, how had he gotten those e-mails?


	10. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Pitch realize the boogeyman is not the source of the fear, and go to who they believe could be the culprit.

Jack sat up and drew air into his lungs with a sharp gasp. He could feel the tingling sensation of sand behind his eyes and a throbbing in his head, signifying his nightmare. His senses came back to him shortly, remembering the day, that is was early in the morning, that he didn’t have class, and that the boogeyman was towering over his bedside. Jack leveled out his breathing, forcing himself to glare up at the oddly looming figure.

“What are you looking at?”

“Your fears were abnormal this night. I intend to get to the bottom of it.” He stated flatly, conversationally, and yet some rage burned in his eyes.

“What?” Jack raised an eyebrow. The boogeyman simply took a step away from the side of Jack’s bed, his robes shifting in the shadows of an early morning. Jack frowned for a moment before swinging his legs off the side of the bed, stretching his arms over his head and standing.

“Fine, I’ll humor y—” Jack didn’t finish the syllable before the front of his t-shirt was snatched in a fist and his back flung onto the brick wall. He gasped at the sharp shock sparking through his spine, and glared up from under his hair at Pitch. His hands shot up to the wrist and tried to tug the grasp away from his shirt. The boogeyman gave an annoyed scoff, releasing his shirt before the vice-like grip grasped Jack’s neck. He gave a short cry and clawed at the wrist instead, tugging as hard as he could. The boogeyman shifted his hold so his thumb pressed hard under Jack’s jaw, restricting his movement and breathing.

“Pi…!” Jack was cut off by his lungs trying to take in needed air. The boogeyman’s grip did not waver, holding him against the wall so forcefully Jack couldn’t tell if his feet were even on the floor. He tried gasping in more air to no effect, kicking weakly at Pitch as he just stood unfazed. Jack shot another hooded glare up at him, and the boogeyman started, his mouth twisting into a snarl. Jack went even more lightheaded as he was flung across the room, his face making hard contact on the floor. He gasped in oxygen and struggled to right himself, though the hand on the back of his shirt hoisted him up.

“What the fuck…!” Jack painfully twisted his head up to glower at the towering spirit holding him aloft by his shirt. The deadly scowl was still on his lips, and as Jack braced himself, he was flung backwards, his back bowing over the desk. Jack kicked him again, making contact with his thigh, but the grip was back on his throat, keeping the back of his skull pressed into the scratched wood of his desk.

“Are you afraid, Jack?” The calm and silky voice was no more, replaced by a low rumble laced with arsenic. Jack’s voice left him again but he shook his head sharply on the desk. The back of his head slammed onto the surface before the weight on his neck was gone. He caught his breath and stumbled, hands gripping the edge of the desk and straightening his back so he wasn't bent so uncomfortably. He barely heard the soft step of his enemy approaching him, and glared back up. Pitch stopped in front of him, still intimidating without the monstrous shadows behind him waiting to be unfurled.

“I’m not afraid of you, for the last. Time!” Jack forced out strongly, gritting his teeth through the last word. Pitch Black glared through him and grabbed him by the hair, driving a short gasp from him again. Much like in the dream in the park, he heard a sharp breath. He thought it was his own, waiting to be strangled, until he felt his hair shifting from hot breath on his scalp as an exhale. “Are you smelling me!?”

“Your _fear,”_ Pitch snarled, and Jack lost all interest in trying to pry himself away. Pitch towered over him for a few more moments, eyes locked on the wall behind Jack while he breathed in his scent—his fear. “What are you afraid of, right now, if you’re so _bold_.” Pitch snarled the word again. Jack swallowed, the grip in his hair not releasing him. He thought and thought hard about how to phrase his words.

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of what you could do to me. Drive me nuts with nightmares, strangle me, something.” His hair ruffled again, and the fingers in his hair loosened just slightly.

“What else,” he said wistfully, before catching himself. “Your nightmare. I did not weave it myself, then what formed it?” It wasn’t even a question, it was a demand. Jack cleared the fog around his mind, struggling to recall where he had been before he’d gasped awake in bed.

 

Jack was running. The background faded away to just the path he ran, barefoot, he recalled. It wasn’t vivid and familiar like Pitch seemed to enjoy crafting for him, it was much too dull. His heart thudded with that familiar word of fear and he couldn’t stop no matter how much his legs ached. He was getting nowhere fast, not fast enough to outrun whatever was chasing him. A twig of sorts snapped behind him. Jack whirled around to see what had caused the noise only to trip, taking the fall on the hard path. He barely paid mind to the scrapes on his hands and knees, kicking himself up and running diagonally. He could lose it this way, in the dark.

The dark, he recalled, could have the moving shadows in them. He had no idea if that’s what was hunting him, but part of him knew that wasn’t the case. Another path found its way under his feet, weaving through the darkness and the thundering heart beat in his ears slowed. His feet finally became lead and slowed down, his steps padding down to a walking speed. He panted, hearing nothing aside from his breath leaving his lips.

A music box started to play in the back of his mind. He took in a sharp breath and held it, listening as it got closer. Nothing screamed creepy like porcelain dolls and more so: music box tunes. A note struck directly to his left, and he was gone. His feet throbbed as they started moving again, taking him away from the music as it only grew louder, right on his heels. He found himself on linoleum, going up flights of stairs, before finally on short and hard carpet. He flung himself into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, flicking the lock. The music was gone, and once he’d let it set in for a few more seconds; he let himself step back from the door.

Ease washed over him in waves. Ease he would normally be skeptical of but now it was welcomed nourishment. He dropped down onto his computer chair, spinning towards it as it came out of sleep mode. His Skype popped up instantly with a message.

**_Hey, Jack._ **

Jack frowned as his eyes saw the sender. Myth. _Myth, no, how? How did he know his name?_ He would never tell that to him not ever, even as the closest friend he could have. Myth didn’t understand.

**_Surprised?_ **

The message popped up and had Jack’s undivided attention.

**_Afraid? He’ll like that. I’m sure he will._ **

_What are you doing?_ Jack’s fingers typed faster than he ever thought they could. His chat partner was already typing away.

**_You’re pathetic. You’re just afraid that he’ll leave you alone and prove you’re out of your mind. I’m real Jack, and I can find you as easily as he found you._ **

**_But I’ll assure you he won’t be leaving you any time soon._ **

**_You’re such a coward. Worthless to everyone._ **

**_Except him. And me. Not him for long though._ **

_What are you off about?_ Jack said it as he typed. His heart was racing but he knew this couldn’t be Myth, couldn’t be real. And yet everything that was being said was exactly what he told himself much too often.

**_Do you feel special now?_ **

**_You have our attention Jack_ **

**_We won’t leave you alone like everyone else will_ **

_You sent those e-mails and now you’re in my dreams. Funny._ Jack came back to himself and stabbed the enter key. The nightmare went silent, a drugging silence as he glowered at the screen. This was a nightmare, some imagined farse to scare him. Anon wouldn’t have his Skype, or Myth’s, or talk about him— _Pitch_ like he was some ally.

This was in his head. Anon couldn’t hurt him, contact him. Because Anon wasn’t Pitch.

Pitch couldn’t have been the one that sent the poem.

This was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. It was just his fear.

And he gasped awake.

 

“The nightmare,” Jack parroted Pitch. The boogeyman gave a dismissive and impatient hum, still keeping him in place. Jack didn’t think he could pull away even if he wanted to. “I realized it was a nightmare. So I woke up.”

“I got that much,” Pitch grumbled. “I did not design that nightmare. Sensing your fears here I can see what happened.” He said, though he didn’t really give Jack much new information. Jack just assumed he was attuned to anything that would unsettle him. “…I don’t understand.” Jack looked up and saw his eyes flit behind Jack’s mass of bed head, to the desk. Jack ventured a step back and Pitch let him. He moved and opened his laptop.

“You can’t touch it.”

“I got that much as well.”

“Why?”

“I’m millennia old, boy. Fear has always existed and can adapt with the times. That does not mean I must.” He folded his hands behind his back. Jack rolled his eyes a little but was still staring at the black screen.

“You know that poem, something that people use to summon you?” Jack said. Pitch didn’t respond, but he could feel the air thicken in the room. Jack didn’t dare turn around. “Someone, someone I don’t know but he knows everything about me, sent me messages with that poem. That’s when you started showing up.”

“You’re afraid of this person,” Pitch snarled. “I’m a result.”

“If you word it that way. I don’t…I don’t like him knowing me. No one knows me. I don’t know who he is, it just showed up in my mail. Some dorky poem that didn’t make sense and now the real, millennia old boogeyman is in my bedroom haunting me.”

“Your conclusions are articulate.” Pitch frowned as Jack turned to look at him evenly. Jack’s lips were pursed together, brows knitted, and his shoulders level.

“I thought you sent the messages.”

“Pardon?”

“You. I thought if the poem was about the boogeyman, and the boogeyman appears, that means you wrote them and sent them to me, for some unknown reason, so you can give me nightmares.” Jack exhaled the words he’d strung together.

To his surprise, Pitch didn’t laugh at him. He didn’t lash out, or disappear. He just stood, austere, _thinking._ Jack waited, because he couldn’t do anything else.

“Your fear is that now knowing I have not been the one in contact with you, that there is still someone out there that knows more than you would like.” Pitch deduced.

“Yes. Well, shouldn’t you be confused? Why would someone summon you here? To me, to give me nightmares?”

“That is part of your fear as well.” He frowned suddenly, his eyes losing all traces of silver shards and becoming molten amber. “Someone else is instilling fear, and it is not me.”

“…That’s what you take out of this?” Jack sighed. Pitch turned on a heel and, surprisingly, began pacing his room again. Jack dropped down into his computer chair, just watching as he went. Pitch sulking was something to behold. He wasn’t even properly sulking, no, he was perturbed to the point where staying still was impossible, and Jack could only imagine what he was thinking. He sat there to the point where the sun started to come up, and Pitch altered his stomping ground enough to drag the curtains shut. Jack let out a chuckle only to bite it back as he received a glare. “Do you have any idea what it could be?”

“I am not your detective.” Pitch muttered and continued to pace. Jack let out a breath, crossing his arms and continuing to watch the long strides.

“But you’re obviously going to take the case.” Jack grinned as he stopped pacing, facing away from him. He held his breath, imagining him dropping into the floor and vanishing in an instant. Pitch simply turned, facing Jack and taking steps back to his desk. Jack sat up straighter in his chair as he got close again. The Nightmare King grinned at the movement.

“I cannot be having another, mere mortal, sending me places by such cowardly means as an ancient summons. Or, giving you fear not of my own design. I rather enjoy the nightmares I weave for you, Jack, and sharing was never one of my strong suits.” Pitch took this like business, even if Jack struggled to understand. He frowned, affronted, because no, he didn’t enjoy his nightmares or the thought that the boogeyman wanted him to himself.

“You think it’s a mortal.” Jack said instead, watching as Pitch shifted slightly, eyes worming their way over Jack’s walls in thought.

“I’m much more unaware of new spirits that I used to be, after the Dark Ages. If there are spirits that have been created since the invention of these machines, they would be able to use them. But I cannot recall any.”

“Well, what if some older spirit just had someone else do it for them? Are there other spirits for nightmares and what—” It was Pitch’s turn to wear an insulted visage, and Jack held his hands up. “Okay, all things that go bump in the night are yours, I got it. Just trying to throw out some ideas.”

“You know nothing of those like us. You’re nothing but a human boy that was randomly selected by some fool as an easy target to give me a hobby.” Jack frowned.

_“Do you feel special Jack?”_

He looked away from Pitch as the man, monster, entity, whatever he was began to take more casual steps through his room. He was familiar with it, certainly. No matter how randomly selected Jack was, he seemed to be more than just a hobby to the Boogeyman. No one could see him. Jack figured some people couldn’t adjust to that lifestyle like he had.

If he was what he could call adjusted.

Pitch’s steps stopped, and Jack looked up from the floor.

“Things that go bump in the night,” A dangerous smile crawled onto the Nightmare King’s face, looking at home there. Jack swallowed hard as the boogeyman walked through the room again, faster this time, ideas flowing like the shadows now lapping at Jack’s walls in anticipation. “Yes, perhaps. A fool indeed.” The shadows shifted in the room and formed a black veil over one of Jack’s walls, and Pitch took a step towards it.

Something in Jack clicked that it was some form of transportation, and he was on his feet in an instant.

“Wait, wait, where are you going?”

“Out. Why, are you jealous?” Pitch mimicked with a feral grin. Jack grew flustered, blushing as Pitch recited what Jack had said on the day of his impromptu snowball fight.

“You’re acting weird. Weirder than normal and you’re pretty weird normally. I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pitch scoffed, taking a step. Jack grabbed him by the elbow and an inhuman hiss escaped the boogeyman, the shadows lurching forward like a spider ready to strike. Jack glared up at him, regulating his terror.

“Even if I’m randomly chosen I want to find the son of a bitch that sent me those things. If you know who it is, I want to go.”

“Who I have in mind will never meet with me if I brought some ratty human along, nor would any being.” Pitch growled at him.

“Something tells me none of them want to meet with you anyways. You need some charming young lad with you.” Jack smiled up at him, the terror successfully tucked away somewhere deep inside himself. Pitch glowered, his lips screwing into a terse frown, but said nothing. Jack hit the nail on the head, and Pitch wasn’t about to admit it. “Take me with.”

“As said, He will never see a human. Not this time of year, anyways.” Pitch grumbled, stepping out from Jack’s hold. Jack dropped his hands to his sides, rubbing his fingers together instead of clenching them into fists, and biting his lip.

“Please?” He said quietly, with much regret. The Nightmare King raised an eyebrow at him, eyes skating over the insignificant human. It took several moments for Pitch to tear his eyes away, looking at the wall of shadow. He waved a hand and the shadows swirled, changing size, and apparently location.

“No.” He molded in with the darkness and vanished.

 

Jack sat on the edge of his bed until the sun was high in the sky, glaring at his wall. Part of him realized he shouldn’t be surprised. Why would he want to get in touch with some supernatural chase? It was Friday, the day was young and he could do what he pleased until Sunday morning when his mom came and got him for home. An aggravated sigh tore itself from his mouth as he stood, digging out his suitcase from the closet. He might as well pack up his things for the free week.

It was around dinner time by the time he felt the shadows cast across his room. Jack hardly noticed, digging through his closet for articles of clothing that he could take home and leave there, or simply get a good wash out of. He gave a startled gasp as something gripped his ankles and elbows, dragging him into the closet further. Hangers clattered to the floor as he tugged his limbs free, stumbling out into the lit room. He snarled, exasperated, as the Nightmare King stood at the center of the room, hands behind his back and a grin on his face.

“Good mood?” Jack grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Pitch rolls his eyes, not deeming him worthy of response. “Fine, did you find him?” Pitch frowned at that, his eyes jumping to the opposite wall and not Jack.

“I did not go to the spirit I believe could be up to this.”

“So you just ran off somewhere,” Jack huffed. “Sure, not like we’re in a hurry to get rid of my stalker.” He looked at his bare feet on the floor, before glancing up as the Nightmare King took a few steps over. His hands moved from behind his back to hand Jack an object. Jack stared at it for several moments, looking up into Pitch’s eyes. He made a motion from the object back to Jack, insisting. Jack wrapped his fingers around it and took it from Pitch’s open palms.

“A…stick.” Jack looked over the crook held up in his fist. It had to be taller than he was, and he wondered how he didn’t notice Pitch holding it. He looked away from the old twined-together wood as Pitch let out a laugh, his mouth still closed.

“This staff has a power within it. I believe if you hold it, other spirits will recognize you as one of them. It’s powerful enough to cover the stench of human on you.”

“So, I don’t need to shower then.” Jack smiled. For being an asshole, he could see what Pitch was offering him: the opportunity to go with him. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. It will simply make beings think twice about killing you.” The Nightmare King scoffed, looking over his nails. Jack chuckled, twirling the staff in his fingers. It was cold to the touch but amazing now that he knew what it would do for him.

“I want to go then, to this suspect.” He looked up at Pitch again, tossing the crook from hand to hand. Pitch watched the movement curiously, as if interested with how familiar he handled it already.

“Very well,” the shadows encased his closet, opening another portal to who-knows-where. Jack took a step towards it, hesitating when a grey hand gripped his elbow. “I warn you that this method of transportation may be unpleasant.”

“Thanks for the warning. Is there anything I need to know about anything before we uh, we go?” Jack swallowed the nervousness down as they stopped in front of the portal. He glanced up, seeing Pitch grinning down at him.

“Well, yes. I believe this spirit will recognize you.”

“…me? But, how?”

“That _staff,_ Jack. The power in it is not common. Alone it signifies something…some _one_.” He drawled, as if Jack was some child that he had repeated the answer to numerous times.

“Who’s that?” Jack frowned, looking at it again. His grip tightened and he heard the wood creak in his fingers and send a chill through his veins.

“Jack Frost,” Pitch chuckled, and pulled him into the shadows.

 

Screaming became a symphony in his ears, wind whipping past them just as quickly. He felt like he was dragged into a trench and the water pressure was pressing and pulling at his insides the deeper he went. His teeth clicked and grinded together as he held back giving a shout. The only unrelenting and unwavering pressure was the one around his elbow, the grip steadying him. Light filled his eyes and he took a gasp of fresh air. The taste of the air itself was enough to make eyes focus faster as he looked around, ignoring the light sweat over his brow.

The air wasn’t as crisp as it was at school, where it crunched like ice under your feet. It was brisk, but still had a sense of warmth. Spices and greenery were fresh in the air, as well as pure wilderness. The greenery itself was falling in clumps of autumn-hued leaves and needles. His eyes focused, seeing a dilapidated barn not twenty feet in front of them. Hay littered the sides and the loft in both bales and strewn piles. Woods and pines infected his senses next, a slight forest surrounding the barn and fences crafted by hand surrounded tilled soil.  Vines and large leaves littered the grounds within the fence, the crops having been harvested but the roots were still planted. A breeze swept through the place, bringing a familiar and readily wanted scent to Jack: pumpkin pie.

Pitch released his elbow finally, Jack realizing he’d stopped staggering. He rubbed a hand over his hoodie sleeve, eyes still darting around the place.

“Where are we?”

“A secluded area in Ohio.” He answered, voice low. Jack saw his eyes were moving everywhere faster than his own, looking for something. _Someone,_ Jack reminded himself. Pitch left Jack’s side to walk to the barn, red paint chipping from age and splinters spiking out in many places. A single, brass bell was hung just on the inside of the doorframe, and Pitch gave it a ring. Jack jolted as he instantly heard footsteps, running, over wood. It sounded hollow, and above him.

“Greetings, greetings, who have we—” an airy gasp drew Jack’s eyes upwards, above where Pitch was standing to the barn loft. A young man with blazing orange hair and torn plaid clothing hung over the edge, eyes wide. Jack’s eyes widened as horror spiked through him. The large eyes looking through him were colored like candy corn, and the sclera was a deep black that looked like it never ended in the other’s skull. “By the moon, Jack _Frost!_ ” The boy jumped from the loft, landing perfectly in front of Jack. Before he could take a step back, the hands of the young man gripped him by the shoulders, giving him a shake. “Years, it’s been. Decades? Centuries? I can’t remember the last time you spent a Halloween with me! Now you show up twenty-two days late!”

“P-par—” Jack sputtered, stuck staring into the void of the young man’s eyes. His grin was a sight to behold, showing his jagged and oddly shaped teeth.

“Jack,” Pitch’s voice drew both youngster’s eyes to the shadows of the barn. The strange spirit released Jack and bounced two large steps over to Pitch.

“My king,” he wheezed, heavy with sarcasm. “I trust you enjoyed those nightmares this year? Any luck, ya know, not being seen and whatever?”

“Nothing makes me more ill than giving children that ingest too much sugar nightmares.”

“That’s hardly the holiday spirit, eh, Jack?” He didn’t even look over his shoulder to the young Overland, who was still gawking. _Too familiar too nice he doesn’t know me. I should go._

“I need to inform you that Jack Frost is not the one you know.” Pitch said matter-of-factly, causing them both to look over to the now-dubbed Jack Frost. He swallowed, still holding the staff and looking between them. The orange boy’s shoulders sagged, eyes growing sad, his smile no longer showing his teeth.

“Ah, yeah, I….I shoulda known that. Yeah. Sorry, pal.” He headed closer again, offering a hand. His skin was a strange pale shade, not like Pitch’s, more like a tinge of green when through his bloodstream. “Jack Candles, resident Jack-o-Lantern.” Jack eyed the hand before taking it, giving a slight shake.

“Pleasure.”

“Well, the dynamic Jack duo is back up, yeah? Say, why’re ya so…brown.” The Jack of Candles tilted his head, looking over Jack with childlike wonder. Pitch straightened his stance from where Jack could see him behind Candles, eyes wide. He opened his mouth, but Jack interrupted him.

“It’s uh, still early. I’ll get more seasonal when it snows more, yeah?” The new Frost smiled award-winningly at the spirit. Both of their eyes widened, Pitch’s lips quirking into a smile while Candles nodded.

“Right, right! Yer like a ferret always. Can’t wait for ya to fly this way later. As long as you don’t freeze my damn pumpkins this year!”

“I solemnly swear to cause no mischief to your pumpkins.” Jack smiled, and the other Jack nodded, pleased. Pitch approached the two at that point, his feet not making any noise even with the dead grass and leaves in his way.

“Now then, Lantern. I’ve come here on serious business.”

“Yer all serious business, ain’t ya?” Candles put his hands on his hips, smiling fearlessly up at the boogeyman. Jack himself smiled as he saw the scowl Pitch gave him.

“Someone has been giving young adults fears and nightmares that I have not caused. Explain yourself.”

“Aw, you’re always so particular about who gets to be afraid of what, eh?” Candles leered, putting his hands up as Pitch manipulated the shadows his barn cast. “Whoa whoa! Hold up there, it’s not even Halloween, I’m off for a year. I don’t make kids afraid, I spook ‘em into giggles with bumps in the night. A little too playful for yer usual, yeah?”

“Quite.”

“It ain’t kids, though? The ones getting scared?”

“None that I’ve witnessed. My powers are not limited to children as you and the Guardians are, Lantern, but I will not be having another spirit doing my job.” Pitch was towering at what must have been eight feet, even causing Jack to shy away. Candles stood unaffected, hands going into his pockets.

“Right I gotcha. I haven’t done nothin’, though. I can ask around.”

“While your network is not a good one, I would respect it for this purpose.”

“Aw, that’s the nicest thing ya ever said to me.” Candles cackled, an inhuman thing that made Jack jolt. The other Jack sent a grin over at him, sensing the reaction, as his eyes glittered a bit. “Well then, I’ll send out a patrol.” In four more strides he’d jumped up onto a fence post, balancing on his sandaled feet and cupping hands over his mouth. He gave what sounded like a terrible impression of a crow cawing, only further making Pitch Black twitch in annoyance. The sound of leaves crunching and being flung around came through the field.

“Crows, crows! Heard ‘em this way!”

“I’m goin’ fast as I can, you stuffed bum!” Heavier crunches were heard. Jack’s eyes widened as bouncing forms came from behind the barn to where Candles was perched like a general on his fence post. The first form was short and stout, wearing overalls and bits of yellow crop flowing behind him. His head was square-shaped like an old burlap sack, and Jack swallowed hard as he realized this was an inhuman spirit. The second spirit was much taller and leaner, wearing a tattered hat and coat with some kind of straw out from his angular face. His legs were nothing but clanking planks of wood making him shuffle forward.

“Boss! Boss we heard some—” The stout, stuffed scarecrow stopped at the fence post. The taller one lumbered over as well, and they both let out loud groans. “We need another call, boss! Ya worried us ta the core!”

“It’s perfect to get you both here! Atten-TION!” He straightened. The stout one shuffled but stood at attention, the other one grumbling, legs perpetually going outwards. Jack couldn’t stop staring at how animate the objects were. Pitch had at one point come to stand by Jack, and when their eyes met, Pitch rolled his. Jack let out a chuckle and continued to watch the show.

“The Boogeyman got a request for us!”

“Boogeyman?! What a toss—” the taller one quipped, silenced by a wave of Candles’ hand and thankfully not the back of Pitch’s.

“Yes, the Boogeyman! Someone be out spreadin’ fear and nightmares, and we’re gonna find the flatfoots!”

“Boss, we don’t have feet!” The stout one bounced, nothing but hay coming from his floppy appendages.

“We haven’t been causing the fear! Now, Buckwheat take the North, scout for all spirits and ask them what they’ve heard! Barley, the same to the South!” Candles gestured to the stout one first, and then the taller. “Call me if you hear anything of interest! Remember: ask about who’s sending spooks!”

“Spooks!” Buckwheat, the shorter, gasped.

“Yes, spooks!”

“Spooks not by the boogeyman?”

“Not by the boogeyman,” Candles repeated, his patience a virtue.

“Yes sir!” Both Scarecrows gave a salute as best they could with false limbs. They clambered off into a direction, before whirling around to head the opposing way, so they followed their poles correctly. They disappeared in a pile of leaves, and Candles hopped off the fence post.

“Good help is so hard to find,” Pitch remarked, causing another cackle from Candles.

“They’ll be good, spirits know when I send them out asking to keep the chain going. Every spirit on the continent will be huntin’ for your spookster by morning.”

“Thank you,” Jack smiled, drawing both their attentions. “I mean, they uh, they’ll really do that. It makes it easier for Pitch and I to look.”

“That’s me, being a kind soul and spirit.” Candles smiled, taking one of Jack’s hands between both of his. “Jack, we need to catch up, yeah? Sorry I thought—ya know, I still wanna be friends. The Guardians gotta know about this too!” He nodded, deciding for himself, and looked at where he held Jack’s hand. “Odd, you’re warm? Feverish, even. You could head to the pole now, get cooled off and meet the big guys.”

Before Jack could retort, Pitch grabbed him by the elbow. “I owe you one for the information relay, Lantern.”

“Will ya haunt my mansion next year?”

“Sometimes you ask too much,” Pitch frowned. “Jack and I must go. Send a crow if you find anything of use. 

“Gotcha. Good luck.” Candles waved, beaming at them both with his teeth once more. Jack waved back before he was tugged into the darkness again. He got a lungful of air once he stumbled into the side of his bed, shaking off the shivers the transport brought him.

“That- that was the Jack-o-Lantern.” Jack said astutely, looking at his unmade bed. Pitch scoffed, keeping an eye on Jack if he were to collapse. “I thought he was a fucking pumpkin.”

“Of course he’s a pumpkin. Not constantly.” Pitch remarked, drawing a breath of laughter from Jack.

“Wow. This is, that, wow.” He ran a hand through his hair, truly feeling feverish now. “He actually thought I was Jack Frost. I forgot that I’d heard that name before.”

“Most have,” Pitch said again, no joke in his tone. “There is no Jack Frost.”

“What did he say, telling the guardians? Did you say something like—” A harsh shove on his shoulder sent him tumbling into bed, dropping the staff onto the floor with a clatter.

“You are no Jack Frost, Jack. You’re nothing but a human wearing a mask that those fools are too stupid to look past. The Guardians are none of your concern, or mine, until I can bury them.” Jack swallowed, watching as the spirit’s eyes flickered with ill intent. He remained that way for a while, until Pitch finally stepped away. “I will alert you when this menace is located,” and with that, he disappeared under Jack’s bed.

He sighed, glancing down at the floor where shadows began slinking under his resting place. He leaned down and lifted the staff, running his fingers over the cool wood again. His eyes widened as floral patterns of frost began to paint its surface, and slither up his finger tips. They melted instantly, but Jack continued to watch the magic as night fell.


	11. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's life is starting to become mundane, though this is the last night in the company of the Boogeyman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the late chapter: Vacation out of state didn't give me any time to write this chapter. It's shorter, and maybe boring, but stuff happens next chapter! Enjoy!

Jack woke up the next morning and packed up his things more enthusiastically. Pitch was staying in the darkest part of Jack’s room, leering out the window from some vantage point or quietly riffling through his books. Jack assumed Pitch didn’t think he’d noticed but he held back his chuckles nonetheless. It was blatantly obvious the boogeyman was bored and no matter what conversation Jack thought of, he failed to instigate any. Not for the majority of the day, anyways.

“I thought Jack said those scarecrows would have news by now,” he threw out into the room. Pitch hummed, acknowledging that he didn’t care or already knew, reclining on Jack’s bed. Jack turned in his computer chair, lifting an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m being familiar, you’re the one bored in my room and laying around my bed all day.” Pitch shot him an amber glare over the binding of _Pride & Prejudice _before going back to the words.

Jack stared at him for a while more, though Pitch didn’t look up again, his eyes slowly tracing the lines of text.

“I would’ve thought you’d read every book,” Jack said again. “Especially these boring ones.”

“I have read this before,” Pitch growled at him. “And it is one of my least favorites.”

“Really? Why read it now, then?”

“Because you have nothing of particular interest in here. And perhaps I admit to being bored.” Jack smiled at the confession.

“Knew it,” He beamed. The Nightmare King scoffed, turning a page. “Why don’t you like it?”

“Why do you pester me?”

“Because I’m bored too. You can indulge me in how much better you are at perceiving books than me. I kind of liked it.” He eyed the book from last year’s English class before going back to Pitch’s face. The shadow master’s eyes narrowed across the binding, no doubt debating how genuine Jack was being. After moments of silence passed between them both, he turned the book over in his spindly hand.

“I do not enjoy Austen’s style of writing dialogue. Mr. Darcy is a good character until he tumbles into this wretchedly sickening scheme of love, and Elizabeth Bennet is nothing short of indecisive and worthless.” Pitch snarled again, his eyes narrowing on the words as if he could insult them.

“I gotcha, you just hate romance books. Like Gatsby.”

“Gatsby is not a romance, and it’s no wonder you’ve failed that class if you believe it is.” Jack bust up in a fit of laughter again, ignoring the piercing sneer Pitch shot in his direction.

“ _Yes,_ Doctor Chalmers.” He waved an arm theatrically. The Boogeyman scoffed and carelessly tossed the book onto Jack’s dresser, the literature not worth the paper it was printed on (according to him). Jack watched it bounce on the other papers before glancing back to the Boogeyman, who remained reclined casually. Shadows lapped at the end of his robe that fell just slightly off the edge of the bed, but Jack was certain the familiarity wasn’t just his own. Jack watched him for a while longer before turning back to his computer, though nothing was particularly earning his attention. Things rarely did when there was a supernatural being living in the dorm room.

Night came faster as they sat in silence; though Pitch spent his silence musing to himself and watching Jack throw more items into his suitcase.

“Mom is going to be here in the morning.” Jack announced after hours of silence while glancing out his window. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, a crow or something, but the fact that today had been relatively uneventful sat uncomfortably with him. His inner urge for abnormality had become insatiable since the ordeal began, and even more now that he’d met the Jack-o-Lantern. He heard no response, which just made him glance over to his bed. Pitch had hardly moved, but was currently weaving strands of that black sand between his fingers. “So, I’m going home. I take it you’ll go haunt other kids for a while.”

“You enjoy referring to me as a ghost, don’t you?”

“Not like I’ve got much to go off of. I do know your hobbies include giving nightmares and being a prick.” Jack tossed another set of jeans into the case. A firm grasp on his shoulder signified the spirit had moved off from the bed silently and shoved him into the wall face first.

“Strange how you haven’t learned to hold your tongue. Perhaps I was being too gentle, in that case.” Jack winced as his forehead was slammed into the wall again, making his head swim and throb.

“Quit it!” He ground out, his jaw uncomfortably positioned. Unsurprisingly this only made the boogeyman slam him into the wall again. “Sorry!”

“Sorry?” Pitch chuckled, lessening his grip. “No more smart remarks?”

“Yer getting predictable with just beating me up for a Nightmare Prick.” Jack snarled and braced himself to get his head smashed into the wall again. The injury didn’t come. Instead, Jack got pulled back and shoved to the other side of the room. He stumbled when the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed.

“Predictable.” Pitch Black hissed in a voice that was still eerily human even with his tone leaking rage. “Predictable for a miserable little human like you? I suppose you’d enjoy it if I became creative like a fairy tale, wouldn’t you?”

Jack pushed himself further back on the mattress as Pitch approached, the black glittering sand forming a shape in their controller’s fingers. The shape hardened into what looked like a staff, growing longer in his gray grasp until it widened into a deadly curve over his head. He swallowed hard as his eyes looked over the sand that had made the Boogeyman look more like a grim reaper.

“I don’t think I know this fairy tale.” He remarked after a moment, clearing his throat. Pitch grinned, an unsettling thing that split over his face and looked at home there.

“Allow me to tell it to you, in that case.” In one sweeping motion Jack flinched backwards, arms moving to cover his face while the blade swung towards him. He clamped his eyes shut as he felt the burning feeling go through him before diffusing through his veins, making his vision flood with darkness.

He opened his eyes slowly, feeling sleep and a yawn leaving him in a breath. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, shivering as he heard the crunch of fresh fallen snow underneath his limbs. His eyes focused from complete blackness into blinding white, surrounded on all sides by snow and lush green pine that were incased with frost. He pulled his feet up underneath him and stood, brushing snowflakes off from his cotton sleeves and his hair.

Looking across the landscape took a few moments as his eyes adjusted. Jack let out a breath in a cold burst of air as he recognized the location once again: the lake he was so keen to skate on with his sister. It was more heavily covered in snow than his first dream—the dream that had gotten frightening in a short time, just before he’d met the Boogeyman. He carefully headed towards the ice-coated lake, surprised as the snow had covered everything in the area except the glassy surface.

Jack let his feet go onto the edge of the lake and gasped at the chill going straight up his spine. He glanced down, seeing he was barefoot for some reason. It didn’t set in as unusual at that moment as he padded further onto the ice. He could practically feel the ice creaking underneath his toes but paid it no mind, going to the center of the small lake. On the middle of the pond was a patch of spiraling frost in crystalline patterns, jagged and spiking outwards. Jack raised an eyebrow. _“This isn’t anywhere else on the lake.”_ He murmured to himself and knelt, running his hands over the cool surface. The frost coiled under his fingers, instead of disturbing the patterns and brushing them away, they melted underneath his pale fingertips. The center began to expand, leaving a hole much like an ice fisherman would leave on a lake. Jack watch and scooted back on his heels as the hole expanded just a bit more and stopped before his knees.

Something inside of him compelled him to dip his hand into the icy water. He felt it shoot straight through his bones with chill, but he didn’t flinch. It was like a welcome chill after being unbearable warm in the summertime, and made his body wonderfully numb. His eyes slid shut as he let out another foggy breath, and within seconds his fingers wrapped around something. He leaned back and pulled the object up from out of the water, leveling out in his lap. His eyes flickered open as he saw the crook, wood chipped and twined together, within his hands. His fingers twitched, the feeling coming back into them and floral spirals started to coat the staff.

“…this.” Jack tilted his head, mind fuzzy in chill and confusion. Why did it look so familiar? He ran his hands over it, feeling the old wood splintering but never cutting through his skin. He blinked a few more times, watching as the patterns of frost continued to weave on the old wood until the areas around his hands were completely coated. “The staff. Pitch.” He looked up suddenly, eyes darting through the forest. Pitch gave him this staff, so why was it in a lake? “Dreaming again.” He concluded but pushed himself up onto his feet.

The lush winter trees shook suddenly, the snow on branches slipped down from the boughs into piles. Jack was instantly on alert, rolling back on his heels and gripping the staff with both hands, aiming it around as he turned. The forest shook with a horrible howl, unlike any kind of animal he could imagine.

“Pitch!” Jack called, his throat hurting from the volume he forced out of it. The trees rattled around him again, the night sky growing darker and trying to suffocate the stars and moon. Jack swallowed hard, hearing the crackling of ice coating the staff in his fingers more. How did it produce frost in his hands without freezing him? He glanced down curiously just to see it wasn’t the frost making that noise: it was the ice below his feet.

A shriek left his throat as the ice cracked and gravity shoved him under the water. He tried to grasp the edge of the iced lake, only one hand grasping the staff as he struggled to float up. His limbs numbed painfully now, every movement dulled and slow.  His flailing felt so rapid and yet his body refused to move. Water entered his lungs shortly, freezing him throughout. He was sinking fast and his limbs just failed to respond to his mind’s panic.

His eyes flicked up to peer through the water, seeing darkness swirling above and yet still filtering in more light than the depths. Something was coming to him closely, and he lazily blinked to try getting the ice away from his eyelids. His eyes barely had a moment to focus on it before it was gripping at his throat and squeezing mercilessly. Jack floundered within his mind again, surely motionless in the still waters as cold, rigid digits drained him even of the water that had been forced down his throat.

“Give it back.” A voice hissed, like it was carried by wind even if it could never reach below the water. Jack gagged again, feeling hot blood dripping from his throat where shards of ice-like nails clung to his flesh, tearing. His vision was becoming dark around the edges, finally, as though the water had become a distant thing killing him and this alone was what could end him— A bony, bluish palm against his throat connected to a wiry wrist, vanishing up above the water’s edge. He didn’t need to see the rest to know the hand was surely clawed and frozen and nearing ripping out his larynx.

“ **GIVE IT BACK.”** The voice screeched, and Jack’s eyes clenched shut around the darkness, his fist around the staff doing the same. Everything around him froze, his body stiff, and incased by the chill coldness of darkness and death.

 

The clatter on his side table made Jack tumble from his bed, sheets twisted around his limbs. He inhaled oxygen, having forgotten he’d deduced it as a nightmare and that he’d always awake short of breath. The phone fell to his left off the table, buzzing loudly. Jack fumbled to realize his limbs were no longer frozen and inanimate, gripping the cell and pressing its buttons.

“Hello?” Jack croaked, clearing his throat a moment later as if he could rid himself of the ice he felt.

“Jack, are you still asleep?” His mother’s voice answered, seeming jovial and amused by the tired tone her son’s voice let out.

“Well, not anymore.” He faked a laugh over the phone. His mom bought it and returned with a chuckle.

“Okay, well, I’m out in the parking lot. Let me in and I can help you with your things.” Jack pushed himself up from the floor, looking at his digital clock and mentally cursing.

“I just have one bag. Gimme a sec to get my pajamas and stuff packed up and I’ll be down.”  He was already fumbling with getting his cell phone charger unattached to the wall and his phone, chucking it into the open suitcase by his closet.

“Okay, no rush.” Jack’s mom answered, though Jack figured by that she did mean not to keep her waiting. He hung up, throwing the phone back onto the bed as he removed his pajamas in two quick motions, the clothing joining the cell phone charger. He got another set of clothes out and tugged them on while stepping through to the bathroom, collecting his amenities there and tossing them into his luggage as well. His computer had been put to sleep after his ordeal the night before, back when he couldn’t even recall falling asleep. He powered it down unsympathetically and packed it into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. The suitcase zipped up fine even with all the loose objects tossed into it, and Jack propped it up. He let out a breath, finally letting his feet stop and let himself look over the room.

He knew it was just to see if he was forgetting anything. He begrudgingly looked over his disaster of bed sheets and yanked them the rest of the way off, throwing them into his large laundry bag. He nearly grimaced as he saw sparkling black grains of sand disappear into the carpet. _“I can wash them at home instead of this dump.”_ He told himself and tossed the bag by his suitcase. His room was terribly bare without laundry scattered around, several of his favorite things being brought home for the week. Even living on campus allowed him to keep only a couple weeks worth of clothing on him due to regular washing, and the rest were packed away nicely in his dresser. He picked up his discarded phone and slipped it into his pocket, eyes gazing at the bared bed he’d tumbled out of countless times. He let out another sigh before shadows shifted in the corner.

Pitch stood near the window, just next to the curtain covering the window that daylight flitted in through.

“Going out?” He rumbled, as Jack couldn’t think of something to say to him for several seconds.

“Told you, Thanksgiving break,” Jack breathed, feeling drowned and breathless once more. “Room’s yours. You can even raid the school library.” Jack wasn’t sure what he disliked more, offering his room to the spirit that gave him such fitful sleep, or knowing that Pitch may still follow him home. Pitch’s eyes narrowed and Jack felt that familiar tug of terror deep inside of him, but he turned away. No doubt the spirit was trying to find out what left him breathless, as if he was unaware of the nightmare again. He didn’t let Pitch answer as he pulled the laundry bag over his back and rolled the suitcase out the door, keys jingling in his fingers. “See ya.” He said over his shoulder, not paying mind if anyone was even in the hallway or that the staff was left leaning against the wall by his bed. The door shut behind him with no argument as he headed out to the parking lot.

 

The car ride home was filled with mom venting over work, complimenting Emma’s performance, and repeating how good it was to see her son even if Jack had heard it a hundred times. He smiled shyly and gave short responses, as usual. Somehow even with family he’d lose his voice, not craving the conversation, but content with listening. He watched the scenery pass by, snow covering parts of the ground and not others, the highway cleared of the stuff and the sun melting the bits of ice over it. Coming home for the first time in three months would feel strange at first, but the modest living space would become familiar once more when he occupied his room and of course had his laptop out.

The car slowed to a stop in the residential driveway in Burgess. Jack shifted, his mind breaking itself out of its zone to pay attention to their stop. The house was the same as it was when Jack left home: modest, white wood paneling with chestnut accents and shingles. He pushed the car door open and was already making himself busy pulling his things out of the backseat. He idly noted that his mother was making a few comments about what minuscule changes occurred, though Jack just pulled on his bag and tugged the suitcase up the front stairs.

“Tulips grow back, mom.” Jack smiled as he opened the screen door to the house, letting himself in. Mom came behind him, chuckling a little.

“Oh, right. I still should’ve just waited for the spring.”

“Jack!” Emma’s head peered out from around the hallway corner. Jack smiled, dropping his laundry bag and backpack.

“Hey, kiddo.” He said in time for Emma to wrap her arms around his waist in a crushing hug that would have otherwise left him breathless. He chuckled and ruffled her hair with a hand, the other wrapped around her upper back. “Miss me?”

“Duh,” Emma scoffed and detached herself from Jack. He smiled brightly as he marveled at how her hair had grown past her shoulders and started to curl like their mother’s. Three months was enough time for the most subtle of changes Jack was surprised he could notice. “Maybe just a little. Was quieter without you here.”

“You implying I’m loud?” Jack smirked, lifting his backpack again and Emma grabbed his laundry to assist him to his room. Jack went down the short hallway and took the second left, taking in a breath as he noticed the clean smell. Mom must have had a bad day at work and spent it cleaning the room, given the fresh smell of clean sheets and carpet. Emma deposited the bag lazily once she was in the door and Jack did the same with his other bags.

“Well, you are when you think of a dorky prank to pull on me.” Emma retorted, just making Jack smile wider. So playing a bad trumpet from Youtube while Emma practiced her solo made the house rattle with out of tune notes, but it was still hilarious.

“I’ll have to fix that, then. I’m here for a whole week, after all.” He set his laptop on his desk, already getting the cord unraveled and plugging it in to charge.

“So, what’s been going on at school?” Emma made herself comfortable on the edge of Jack’s bed. He glanced over at her, his eyes traveling to the dark space under the bed skirt. Nothing shifted or moved, though Jack looked away before his curiosity became obvious.

“Nothing happens to me, just sitting around on the internet.”

“Boring. You need a hobby. Like singing. Or join the hockey team or something. Be a ballerina on ice.” Emma kicked her feet where they just couldn’t reach the floor. Even eight years behind Jack she was short for her age, still having the plump cheeks dappled with freckles making her eyes look too large for her face. Jack smiled to himself, biting his lip as the computer began charging.

“Mom said you’d sing the concert for me. Unless you’re scared,” Jack smiled over his shoulder at her, diverting the conversation from his hobbies. Emma sat up straighter and clasped her hands.

“I’ll sing for you! There’s this one song I really like, it’s got a boy’s part.” Her hazel eyes glittered in hope, and Jack let his smile soften as he took his fingers from the computer power switch.

“Okay, teach me.” He put his hands in his pockets as Emma bounced onto her feet, taking him by the arm into her room. Jack chuckled, glancing back into his room devoid of anything aside from clean sheets and the hope of good dreams.


	12. Lyric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack enjoys his recovery time at home, or tries to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, it was kicking my ass! It's a bit of a break for Jack to whine and complain before we get into stride again next chapter, so maybe this would be considered filler. Sorry for lateness and schoolness but please enjoy!

The aroma of dinner from the kitchen wafted down the halls to the Overland siblings, like the music that flowed out from a computer. Emma sat on her slight computer chair, bouncing in it just so as she and Jack watched the video for her new favorite song. Jack was smiling, sitting up off his thighs to see the lyrics over the screen dance in time with the vocalist. He was never as musically inclined as his sister, but memorizing lyrics was something he was good at.

“You like it?” Emma had asked him twice already but Jack humored her regardless.

“Yeah.” He nodded once. Emma shifted, seeming unsatisfied with the unenthusiastic answer. “The guy’s part is really far in the background.”

“Yeah, but, you hear it?” She pressed again, turning her chair just slightly to see Jack’s expression. He felt the creak of the seat before he saw her, smiling so she could focus on that.

“Yeah. I do like it. Not gonna get you out of singing the whole concert to me.”

“I-I was gonna do it!” She crossed her arms in defense of Jack’s sneer.

“Fine, but after dinner you better be ready for a performance. I bet mom will listen in too.” Jack rose to his feet, getting the feeling back into his legs. His arms stretched over his head and Jack withheld a yawn. The nightmare had drained more of his energy than he’d thought, the race to get home keeping him alert all afternoon. Needless to say he was ready to crash and the sun had only recently set.

“Jack, Emma!” the two kids looked towards the door as their mother called. Jack smiled, grinning back to his little sister.

“Seems you have less time to shake off those nerves, scaredy cat.” He made a face and jumped out of the room towards the dining table, the small brunette at his heels.

“Jerk! I’m not a scaredy cat. I’m not some little kid.” She put her hands on her hips as Jack rounded the table to take his seat. He chuckled as he sat, his sister sitting across from him.

“Littler than me.” Jack sing-songed, beaming as his sister continued to give him a pudgy-faced scowl.

“You’re like a big kid anyways.” She took the jug of milk on the counter and poured herself a glass.

“A little. Is the lake frozen over?” He asked after taking the jug from her to pour his own drink.

“Not yet,” Mom came from the kitchen, carrying the pan of lasagna with mitts. She set it carefully in the middle of the table before removing them. “Winter is a little mild so far, it should be frozen for Christmas break.” She assured as she took her seat and completing the Overland triangle. Emma pouted for half of a second before her eyes were on the food in front of her.

“Smells- I mean sounds good.” Jack flashed a smile as the two girls giggled. Mom went ahead and served them slices of pasta and the children were instantly engrossed. Jack hadn’t realized how hungry he had been. How many meals did he skip during this whole Boogeyman business? He shook the thought of his phrasing away. Pitch’d probably say that calling it Boogeyman business was too dull. How was Pitch anyways? He’d only been gone the most part of six hours and it was still unusual to not see the slightest hint of being followed. He silently praised whatever power there was for that. It’d be hard to explain arguing with himself, especially if Pitch wasn’t lying when he said people couldn’t see him.

“So, I was thinking, for Thanksgiving we can just do our own thing, and then go out for Black Friday sales. We can find a cheap television for your dorm, Jack.” Mom smiled in between bites. Jack felt his mouth dry, though he covered the thick feeling by taking a swig of milk.

“I don’t really need a TV. I’m not big on the whole…’trample each other for deals’ thing.”

“But there’ll be lots of stuff on sale, and everyone else goes.” Emma retorted his fingers clicking lightly on the glass she held.

“Yeah, crazy people.” Jack shuddered. He’d avoided Black Friday shopping for twelve years now, even Emma knew he never went. She’d been born and never saw Jack leave the company of his family let alone go to a mall when it would be fuller than usual. That fair in September ruined it. Every stranger was dangerous and the more of them there were the likelihood Jack could throw a fit.

God, he wished he could stop making himself react so childlike or violently. It was conditioned, he reminded himself, but that didn’t make him want to go any more.  Thankfully, Mom caught his eye, her dark brown eyes softening as she must be the only one able to read what was coursing through his head.

“We’ll see how you feel, okay?”

Jack would have preferred if she just agreed with him, but he nodded regardless.

“Did your friends make it home alright?” Jack frowned and chewed his large bite of food. His mother was a little too good with the trick questions.

“I don’t have friends, mom. I guess some acquaintances made it home. But I didn’t ask.” Jack supposed he could have, but he wasn’t going to text Jacie first.

“Acquaintances. Acquaintances are good.” She smiled, gathering another forkful. Emma had her eyes glued to her plate, though was obviously listening.

“Sure. Some kids that made a study group for the Psychology test. I got an A-.” Jack hoped that’d change the topic, but mom was a bit too sharp.

“Good job, baby. You just met them to study?”

“Once, for a little bit. I went on a walk and they had a snowball fight. It had snowed that morning. They let me join in too.” Jack pushed aside the end to that evening and focused on the crisp chill and adrenaline that raced through him.

“Oh, good!” Mom nodded, and Jack swore he almost saw her drop her fork. “That’s great, sweetie. Don’t worry, the lake will freeze and we’ll get more snow soon. I know you love it.”

“Yeah. I know, mom.” He smiled and said fondly, going back to eating. The table was relatively silent, except the exchanges about musical pieces between Emma and their mother. His plate was practically licked clean from his eagerness before Emma cleared plates for them.

“Know what that means, Em?” Jack smiled across the countertops at her. She glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at his grin.

“I said I’ll sing!”

“Just making sure you weren’t thinking of running away.” Jack leaned back in his seat, full and warmed from within.

“We would have to chase after her and tickle her into submission if she tried to escape.” Jack beamed as his mom joined his side, still resting in her seat. Emma stomped her foot a couple times.

“Your tactics are dirty! So are these plates, so I’m gonna clean them and then I can do it.” Jack laughed and waited, looking around the living space quietly. The house was small, the kitchen attached to the living room that just had a couch that’d been around as long as Jack had, as well as a simple recliner. Mom’s office, or more-so a desk with lots of papers on it, was against the wall behind the couch with her computer. Jack’s interest in writing definitely came from his mother’s ability to craft stories. Unlike her, he wanted to at least keep it as a hobby until he decided what to do.

Emma shoved him on his shoulders until he was up and walking towards the couch. He chuckled and waved her off, taking a seat with mom. Emma ran back down the hall. Jack debated chasing after her until she reappeared with her computer. She set it on the short coffee table in front of the older Overlands while she typed in a few short commands. Eventually, she stood up straighter and gave her audience a short curtsy. Jack chuckled and clapped his hands as some piano music started from the laptop speakers.

Emma sang, starting out quietly, but soon she came up to full volume and stature. The first two songs Jack didn’t recognize, and one was even in Latin. They both sounded somber, but very pretty. They probably sounded even more magical with an entire choir praising the lyrics. The third song Jack swore was something along the lines of Nightwish, but made no comment or attempt to remember where it was from. The final song began playing just as Emma tugged on his wrists, pulling him up with a shocking amount of force.

“Oh, c’mon!” Jack chuckled, but Emma made him steady next to her.

“You know the chorus at least! I’d be surprised if you didn’t know the first verse by now!” Emma patted his arm. Mom looked between them until Jack gave a guilty looking shrug. Before Jack could start to explain to her, Emma started her singing. The acoustic trilling along with her made it seem upbeat, but keeping her voice on the lower level made it sound somber like the others. Jack swallowed as he heard the music pick up to something a little more hopeful, before singing behind her voice.

 _“I’ll be here waiting, hoping, praying that the sky will guide you home. When you’re feeling lost I’ll leave my love hidden in the sun, for when the darkness comes…”_ Jack subtly cleared his throat while Emma continued to the second verse.

“Now the door is open. The world I know is broken. There’s no return.” Emma continued. Mom was sitting up where she sat on the couch, smile wide as she looked between the two, giving Jack a thumbs up. Jack smiled, and some lines followed that he also accompanied.

_“Now my heart is not scared, just knowing that you’re out there.”_

“Watching me, _so believe.”_

Jack felt a knot come up in his stomach, but continued to sing along with the chorus another time. He liked the song but he hadn’t actually thought much on the lyrics he sang. His eyes flickered around the room as the instrumental continued. Emma nudged his elbow slightly as it came to an end. He caught his breath quickly.

_“-Be here waiting, hoping, praying…that this light will guide you home. When you’re feeling lost I’ll leave my love hidden in the sun…for when the darkness comes. Hidden in the sun,”_

“For when the darkness comes.” Emma finished. Mom instantly began to clap while Jack wet his lips.

“Bravo, brava!” Mom clapped and laughed at the overly-enthusiastic bow Emma did then. She tapped at her computer and made the music stop from repeating while Jack nodded to her.

“Great job, Em.”

“You too, dweeb. Even if you fall asleep during parts of it.” She nudges Jack so they both sway on their feet. Jack forced a laugh, putting his hands into his pockets. He began to take strides down the hall towards his room. The two girls thankfully continued chatting while Jack shut his door and booted up his laptop. _That’s enough social interaction for now…_ He swallowed hard and clicked open Skype. It wasn’t like his dreams with mysterious messages being sent, it was quiet as usual.

He decided it’d been a while since he’d talked to Myth.

 _Hey_ He typed, praying that the nightmare wouldn’t become actuality. A few long seconds passed before another message returned.

**_Hey. How’ve you been?_ **

_Can’t complain._ Jack lied, tapping his fingers over the keys. _No school for the week._

 ** _Oh, sweet. We don’t get that long off here. Just a four-day weekend over Thanksgiving._** Myth replied. Jack relaxed a bit in his seat.

_Better than nothing._

**_Basically. Did you ever figure out that whole email thing?_ **

_You could say that._ Jack swallowed again, still remaining calm.

**_You haven’t mentioned it in a while. Was just wondering._ **

_What for?_

**_You know I’m crazy about this kind of thing, but you were really worried about it. I’m glad it’s resolved and not stressing you out, I guess?_ **

Jack ran a hand through his hair. What did it matter to Myth, anyway, if he was stressed or not? He wasn’t actually concerned. No one was ever concerned. He was wondering why he started the conversation himself after being left on his own for this long. He must have pondered this for quite a while, because Myth was typing again.

**_Going to dinner now. We need to talk more, unless you’re busy. But yeah, later._ **

Jack sighed again and scrolled through his Tumblr once more, still unable to think of a creative post. His dash was dying and ceasing to maintain his attention.

 

Jack settled into bed early, craving sleep that could make his body feel more recovered than it had in the past weeks. Dark circles were forming under his eyes from forcing himself to stay awake, to deal with the unhealthy sleeping conditions, and press forward with his routine. Midnight just passed as his eyes started to fall shut.

He blinked awake again, rolling on his side and peering over the edge. Jack dangled precariously over the bed to take a peek underneath, only to see flecks of dust that settled in his absence. He sighed.

"Paranoid," he grumbled, shimmying himself back under the moderate covers for winter.  Talking to Myth had eased his mind that the nightmares he'd been getting were just that— nightmares. Every bit of it was imagined. He picked through the details of the dreams slowly. First the lake that he visited at home every winter. The dream where he raced with his sister to that lake. The day back in September, at the fair, wasn't a new nightmare for him. There were the small nightmares where he was in a box, alone in the dark, and alternatively the ones where there were people _waytoclosecan'tgetaway_. Class, with the stupid test (That one was just the boogeyman trying to be clever; he'd even said such fears were boring). That's why he'd resorted to using those things— living shadows dragging him under and grabbing way too tightly when he didn't want them. Then there was the park at school he'd gone to just the night before, and being forgotten. The lake again, with the staff he just received, the chilling fingers wanting to rob him of life.

It seemed all so miscorrelated, but the only thing he could think of was how the lake seemed to be in a significant amount of them. His past, the lake, and people. The lake that he thought was a safe place for his childhood to come out was being turned into a nightmare. Once it froze he would need to go see it, alone. He didn't want the nightmare of Emma become true.

He heard the whinny of horses as he blinked up at the ceiling. He raised an eyebrow slowly as he realized a horse probably shouldn’t be in the suburban residences of Robin drive, but figured it was the wind. He shifted under the covers, uncomfortably warm and threw off several of them. He shifted frantically to try getting comfortably, before sighing. Jack swung his legs over the edge and paced down to the end of the hall, running the sink in the bathroom for a drink and a leak. The place was completely silent and dark as the girls had already taken themselves to bed, and mom only stayed up late on her deadlines. His drink didn’t do much to relax him but he didn’t feel so empty then.

He stepped back into the darkened hall, hearing the floors creak. Emma shifted in her bed behind the door on his right, making him rise onto his toes. He creeped down the hall to make it to his room across from his little sister’s and glanced at her door as he passed. A quiet whimper made him stop just past the threshold, hesitating. In a few seconds he could hear the moving of sheets, probably all of them, and another whine. Jack instantly frowned and turned the door handle slowly to quiet his entrance.

Emma was above the sheets, most of them half fallen to the floor in her moving. She wasn’t awake, as she was facing Jack with her eyebrows drawn together and her eyes closed. She gnawed at her bottom lip slightly and pulled her arms and knees more in on herself, but didn’t shiver. Jack let his eyes adjust more to the darkness and a gasp made its way out of his throat. Some glittering sand the color of gold danced around his sister’s head, but tendrils of shadows licked up the sides of her bed, and he could see individual grains of sand turning black.

 _“Pitch.”_ Jack forced the syllable out of his mouth in the most menacing whisper he could manage. He heard the floorboards creak again, but held his ground as the shadows manifested darkly, obscuring his vision of the rest of the room. He expected a snappy retort, but thought twice, not wanting to hear it. “Leave Emma _alone.”_ He didn’t bother whispering: Emma was fast asleep.

“I was on my way to visit you, really, but how could I resist ruining a precious, sweet dream of a little girl?” Pitch didn’t show himself unsurprisingly, but the darkness coiled around the window and bed frame. Jack took two steps forward, the boards not creaking under his weight, where he stood at Emma’s sleeping side.

“ _Leave. Her.”_

Pitch scoffed, the sound bouncing off the walls as if he was everywhere at once. For all Jack knew about those shadows he was.

“As if I would take orders from—” Jack’s eyes widened as Pitch began to become a shadow on the wall, crossing the window, and then: a golden stream of ribbon sailed through the window, neglecting the glass, and coiled around Pitch’s lanky form. A startled gasp made its way in a baritone voice, and then Jack was looking at wide, golden irises as the Nightmare king materialized, restrained.

And then he was yanked out the window with a clatter. Jack flinched as the clatter was a loud wood-on-wood sound, and it only registered as he caught the slender shape fall onto the bedroom floor.

He practically vaulted over his sister’s bed and picked the staff up from the ground, and dashed to the front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song- When the Darkness Comes: Colbie Caillat


	13. Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds Pitch, and someone else finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration struck me and I felt the need to reward you guys for waiting patiently for updates while I adjust to school. Please enjoy this chapter!

Jack winced as the door shut loudly behind him and the sidewalk chilled his bare feet. It didn’t slow his pace at all, his feet taking him around the side of the house to the backyard. It was small with uneven grass and dirt patches where greenery had worn away. The single short tree was stretching up around the back corner of the yard, piles of leaves coating the ground around it. Mom must have skipped raking them. _No, run you idiot!_ Jack went to the far back and cleared the short fence separating the property from the neighbor’s on the other side. His eyes scanned the lawn, shadows, and rooftops for something, anything. His jaw dropped when he saw streams of the golden ribbons painting the sky and slipping through nooks and crannies of houses all down his block. Jack made his feet carry him around to the neighbor’s front lawn and onto the street, gripping the staff tightly.

He stood in the deserted street, looking around at all angles. He raised an eyebrow as nothing seemed to gain his attention. He hadn’t imagined that thing grabbing Pitch, had he? Not a chance, he scoffed, pacing down the sidewalk quickly. The golden paths continued around above the power lines into the sky. Jack squinted, seeing the faint outline of a glimmering cloud hidden behind a few others, dark and heavy with some snow. _I’m not going to try to understand any of this._

A harsh thunk snapped his head down the adjacent street in time to see another golden tether hit the ground. Jack gasped when it lifted up Pitch, still firmly coiled around his arms and waist, and smashed him into the pavement again. He stared as the spirit got flattened again, butterflies made of gold branching out from the band constricting him. Jack frowned but ran down the sidewalk, waving his staff and breaking apart the line. His eyes widened as it fell away easily, only leaving grains of sand.

“Sand…?” He nearly whispered, watching it all fly towards the sky instead of downwards. The grains combined in their ascent until he saw the large, golden cloud drift above him. Jack felt himself take a few steps back down the sidewalk towards home as the mass came closer to the ground, no longer shrouded by the other weather. A sharp groan made him turn slightly, just in time to see Pitch sink into the shadow of a sewer drain. Jack moved to turn his back to the shining cloud; pretend it wasn’t real, because there’s no way it was, when he heard another shout. Pitch reappeared from a darkened chimney’s shadow and wielded the deadly scythe Jack had become familiar with, and the shout was as he swung it vertically. A wave of black sand assimilated from the blade in an arc, tearing through the street and making every streetlamp flicker out as it blew past. A wall of the golden sand flew up like a tidal wave, the black grains exploding on contact and covering the ground.

A whinny of a horse came to Jack’s ears then, and then more followed. His couldn’t lift his eyes away from where Pitch stood on the roof: confident, commanding, and looking very, very angry. A herd of black mustangs rose up from out of alleyways, underpasses, and darkened windows and hovered around the roof their leader stood atop.

“It was just one bad dream, Sanderson!” Pitch calls, his voice bouncing across the vacant street. “Now I’m tempted to share it with the whole block. Your dream sand will be oh so useful in aiding that, I’m sure.” Pitch still looked angry, a wrinkle between his brow, but he smirked. Without so much as a twitch the horses reared up and dashed down, out, and around: anywhere they had room to gallop. The golden “dream sand” split off into more of the ribbon-like whips to intercept, though Jack swallowed hard as he saw some of the mares stomp it out, turning it ashen, and make them larger.

Jack’s eyes widened as more of the unattended tendrils in the sky, giving good dreams to the children of the city started to crumble or be infected with the veins of black sand. Jack could physically remember the burning of the nightmare sand as it forced him to sleep, how when he awoke it still itched somewhere in his mind. He could never really get it out.

“Pitch!” Jack shouted, looking up over Cardinal Street to the rooftop. He was ignored as Pitch’s scythe spun gracefully in his fingers and deflected an arrow of gold sand. “Pitch! Knock it off!” He raised the volume of his voice until it scratched the back of his throat. He didn’t want the whole town having nightmares like this! Was there always some kind of battle taking place around the world, if the guardians Pitch and Candles mentioned were real? He gasped and frantically waved the crooked end of his newly-acquired staff to block a disc of sand from crashing into him. _Well, I think I got his attention at least._

He bent at the knees when he heard the puff of air leaving a horse’s muzzle, knowing it was near. He glanced around until he saw it: smaller than some of the others that had gotten sized-up from an intake of the dream sand. The mare was around the side of the house just behind Jack, standing and whickering outside a window as the sand from its mane blew into the room. Jack took careful, light-footed steps around the side, watching the movement of the horse. It was entirely comprised of the sand he hated, but it formed and made a perfect imitation of a real horse. The ribs were visible, every muscle of the legs, even stands of the mane and tail that blew in the wind and from the chest breathing anxiously. He got close enough to where a large flick of the tail would brush him, before reaching a hand out.

The reaction was instantaneous as his fingertips just barely skimmed the surface of skin. It was sandpapery in texture, but sent a burst of electricity through him so sudden he stumbled back. The electricity wasn’t like he’d be fried, but he felt all his hair standing on end with a familiar strike of fear, akin to what he felt when he’d locked eyes with the Nightmare King. The horse whickered again, surprised as it faced Jack with hooded eyes of burning gold irises. It neighed loudly, ringing through the cacophony of noise from the battle down on the street and stomped its hooves at Jack. He took another two steps back to avoid having his bare feet flattened.

“Whoa, hey!” He put his hands out in front of him, though one balanced the staff between fingers. Jack grimaced as he regretted knowing zero about horses or really any animal (aside from cute rabbits) and was unsurprised that he was speaking a different language to the mammal. It kicked up some of the ground with a hoof before running at him, its muzzle slamming into Jack’s chest. The wind was knocked right out of him as the horse’s head was large enough to hit Jack straight-on, and raised its head up to end the contact. Jack however, doubled forward, and the horse flung him over its back. His hip crashed onto the horse’s, deriving another angry neigh. Disorientated, Jack found himself on the floor of the neighbor’s yard, but pushed himself up quickly as the horse’s back legs kicked at him. He grimaced but gave the tail slapping his side a firm yank, and realized the error as soon as his feet left the ground.

Something about flying horses was definitely new to Jack, and even more curious was hanging on to a flying horse by its tail. It didn’t seem to register the pain tugging on its tail, more concerned with getting away from the kid with the stick. Jack’s weight was hauled upwards in its escape. “HEY!” He gasped, only gripping tighter as they flew up level with rooftops and then even higher. His other hand held the staff just as tightly, as if that could keep him from falling too. The mare let out a whinny, spinning on its flight-path and Jack spun along with it, bumping into one of its flanks. He carefully opened one eye as he felt them stop moving. Two larger mares flew over into his vision, coming to the other’s aid to rid it of the heavy pest.

The first stallion flew around to make him let go, teeth bared and snapping as it flew around the rear of the other. Jack flailed the staff at it, coaxing it away and swinging awkwardly back around. His eyes darted around and he gasped as the second horse, eyes ablaze like fire, snapped at his hand. Instincts kicked in, not wanting his hand caught or grabbed or hurt, and slipped through the fine grains of sand that made the smaller mare’s tail. He gave a short yell as his stomach went into his throat, and the pavement where Pitch had been slammed into approached him fast. He clamped his eyes shut, fingers gripping the staff tightly in freefall. _I’m gonna die. Or just break every bone in my body if I’m unlucky. Oh god, I really had more problems than English. Why did I have to get the possessed e-mails?_ Jack awaited the bone crushing splat, feeling tired, but completely relaxed. _Well, got to skydive._

Chilled wind threw his brown hair up over his eyes, over the crown of his hair and his stomach dropped back down. The surprise of not hearing a “splat” made his eyes open, staring as he was set onto his feet on the sidewalk. Everything was cold, as if the turning seasons and how poorly dressed he was for the weather set in. The wind blew over his face again and ruffled his hair, almost like a hand of some uncle he met at reunions: someone he knew.

“What.” Nothing more intelligent slipped out, but he wouldn’t think to regret it later. He glanced down and flexed his toes, the feeling of being on solid ground and not in pieces registering. The nightmares still flew around and bursts of gold and obsidian clashed in the air around him, but he felt separate from it. The wind blew through his night shirt and make it tug, making a noise that scarily sounded like _Jack._

 _“What.”_ He repeated, finding his voice in less than a whisper. Goosebumps flooded down his arms and raised the hair on the back of his neck as the wind flew by and whispered.

_“I’ll catch your falls. The west wind.”_

“Wind?” His eyes felt like they’d pop out of his skull. He was seriously talking to himself right now, right?

 _“Yes,”_ The air rippled around him, curling around his waist protectively. _“Fly, Jack. For good time’s sake.”_

“I don’t-“ An embarrassing squeal left him as he was rocketed up through the air, cold bursts of air hauling his weight up into the sky. It wasn’t as frantic as it had been when the horse took the skies, but he still felt the lurch in his gut. He faintly heard laughing as he was tugged to the left, back up, and around in a loop, limbs flailing. The wind was practically roaring in his ears from his speed but it didn’t sound malicious, and more laughing and half-words reached his ears the less he flailed. He got a good grip on his staff and turned himself slightly, feeling the wind help him move in that direction and push his body into a more aerodynamic position. Before he knew it he was laughing along with the wind, flipping and veering around light poles and dodging around galloping nightmares attacking some manta ray in the sky. He spotted a menacing wave of black sand over the roof of a house, latching on to gleaming gold eyes narrowed down at the battle.

“Pitch!” Jack called again, and like stepping over a stair, he flew up and forwards. “Pitch, Pitch I’m _flying._ That is not one of your dumb nightmares, it’s _awesome.”_ Jack felt his smile stretch over his face, his teeth showing with enthusiasm. The thought that Pitch wouldn’t care crossed his mind but he didn’t care. He wanted everyone to know, somehow prove it was actually happening. Pitch’s eyes tore away from the battle, as if he was controlling all the parts like a composer, and glanced over. The flying thing seemed to just register with the older spirit as well, his eyes widening comically as he turned and looked at Jack fully.

“How-“ He stopped as his head whipped towards the street at a shrill whinny. The nightmares were crushed in large bands of gold sand and infected with the good dreams, disappearing. Jack wasn’t sure if he felt sorry or not, but it was a morbid thing to witness. Sand shifted around somewhere, just caught with Jack’s hearing while Pitch formed the scythe from his fallen stallions, tearing apart another disc of golden sand flying towards him. Jack clutched his staff in both fingers, the wind dragging him out of the reach of the long-handled scythe. It was acting more on his subconscious than he realized. Jack hadn’t felt so in control in a long time.

The moment was short lived as gold sand formed around him, not squeezing, but encasing him. He gasped, the wind being cut off from the party ball-like shape and dropping Jack onto his rear inside the shape. He prodded at the edges of it, feeling the sandpapery texture and releasing a yawn. _No, no sleep. This can’t be a dream! Things were just getting…fun?_

He felt the sands shifting, reminding him of a conveyor belt. He didn’t get very far, not far enough for claustrophobia to set in, before he was released. He dropped down, the wind not finding his feet before he landed on another sandpaper surface. His eyes refocused to the lighting to see himself standing on the large cloud he’d seen drift in overhead. Jack’s eyes darted around, spying some stars and dead street lights from the darkness Pitch was casting, and more golden wisps flowing through windows. A tug on his pajama pants made him look down and withhold a gasp.

The stout man had exotic golden hair and pale skin, and his body seemed to be comprised of the sand as well. He was practically alight and glowing with the stuff. Even more so, his eyes were wide but curious and asking a thousand unsaid questions up at Jack.

“Hel…lo?” He found his voice. Honestly, after learning to fly and talk to an inanimate object, talking to one new and short person shouldn’t be so difficult. He could say he passed his talking to people quota for the day. A barrage of shapes started springing up from the cloud and over the man’s head, his hand gestures just making it even more overwhelming. Jack took a hesitant step back, eyes widening as shapes dashed in front of him in charades. Snowflake, a house, was that Pitch? The staff. Jack’s eyes slowly narrowed and an eyebrow rose. The images froze where they were and vanished, sinking into the cloud. The stout man slapped a tiny palm onto his face.”Sorry…I don’t…?” Jack wet his lips, mouth going dry. _This is not going well. I don’t even know what’s happening and I don’t think it’s very good. I was never good at Pictionary._

The small man looked Jack over, tapping a pudgy finger to his chin, seemingly unaware of the warfare below. Jack tried to forget it too, considering he didn’t appear to be in any danger. The other’s face lit up and he snapped his fingers (though it made no sound) and dragged that finger into the cloud at his feet. Jack tilted his head before taking a few steps around to watch the cursive script flow.

“Sandy.” He read it, dissecting the calligraphic nature of the man’s handwriting. A few rapid hand movements and flying grains of sand made Jack look down at him once more. “That’s your name? Oh. I’m Jack.” The short man offered a hand. Jack knelt, using the staff as a crutch to prevent his knees from giving way. He took his hand and gave it a gentle and nervous shake. Another whinny of a horse made him look towards the edge of the cloud. “Does this happen a lot? You and Pitch, know each other? So you’re the Sandman?” Jack’s questions blurted out, his mind not taking the pause to put two and two together right away. Sandy rolled his head on his shoulders and Jack took that as a _Sometimes_. “He’s a weird guy. But I’ve seen a lot of weird things since I’ve seen him, so I guess I can’t judge.”

Sandy waved his hands back in front of himself, _no, no, no!_ Jack raised an eyebrow, shifting his weight a little from where he was kneeling. A few more images flashed over his head, going slower for Jack to be able to make up their shapes. The first one was more recognizably Pitch: tall, a profile view to see his aquiline features and slicked hair. It changed to a small child, a girl with pigtails and a smile. The third made a spiked hand come into the picture, the girl frowning and crying in bed. Jack shrugged his shoulders.

“I get that nightmares are his thing. A bit too well, really.” Jack shook away the memories of his recent afflictions. He was nearly desensitized to that sort of conversation now that his body was getting used to not being rested. It wasn’t healthy but it was living. Sandy shook his head, Jack marveling at how his hair stayed in position and yet flakes of sand just fell off the man in every movement. “I gotcha. He doesn’t like you either from what I’ve heard. He got real mad when I sang your song at him.” The spirit shook his head, in shock with his eyes widening and staring at Jack incredulously. More symbols flashed over his head really quickly, but Jack stood up. “I’m really bad at this…I’m just gonna head home then.” He stepped around to the edge of the cloud, the wind brushing up over his cheek.

Another tug on his pants made him glance down. Sandy gave him the “one moment” motion, and a ball of sand appeared in his palm. His two hands weaved around the mass and Jack watched the air form it into threadlike strands, making a more definitive shape. Jack’s mouth dropped as a bunny appeared and hopped up out of his hands to Jack’s level. “Whoa.” He smiled as it hopped around his shoulders. “Pitch doesn’t do that. He just hits me with it so I fall a-“the bunny jumped into his face, the gold sand crashing over him like cold water.

His knees went weak, eyes heavy and all his tense muscles from adrenaline just gave up. _No, no, no! Don’t fall, stay awake! You’re falling stupid!_ Jack forced his eyes open, and had indeed stumbled back off of the cloud holding him aloft. The wind passed by him and hugged at his forearms, slowing his fall but not his descent into sleep. The muscles in his body ceased to respond, except for the vice-like grip he held over the staff. He could feel the ancient wood creaking as he gripped it as a lifeline, as if it’d keep him in the present. His feet touched freezing sidewalk cement and his knees followed. He let out a groan and forced his arm to move the staff in front of him, keeping his upper body from cracking open on the pavement. He didn’t want to sleep; sleep brought the nightmares, so why did he feel so fuzzy?

A dark shadow moved over him as did a hot breath ruffling his hair. He just barely lifted his eyes up to see a Nightmare sniffing him, before giving a too-loud neigh. Jack groaned, his other hand wrapping around the staff. Gravity won out and he fell forward onto the sidewalk, able to at least roll onto his side and not bust his face. The wood hit the ground with a clack, but Jack didn’t stay awake to see if it was still in his grip.

 

Screaming: loud, and lots of it. Jack clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the noises that couldn’t be real. He was so tired, wanting nothing more than to keep his eyes closed and see nothing but black and not have to think anymore. The screams changed to shrieks, cries, sobs, pleading, and soon Jack pinpointed the voice. _Emma._ She was screaming and pleading but he couldn’t quite hear the words, the fearful wails too loud and echoing all around his ears and numbing him. He threw his eyes open: he had to find her.

Instantly he was staring into blazing amber eyes, brow drawn together in an angry focus. Jack’s breath left him as a hoarse gasp and his body moved on its own, scrambling back away from the too-close source of fear. The Boogeyman released his shoulders, apparently having been holding Jack up, and fluidly stood back at full attention with hands behind his back as if nothing happened. Jack didn’t stop until his back smacked into the solid post of a mailbox. Desensitized or not, he felt his heart beat skyrocket.

“What happened?” Jack found his voice. His eyes darted around as he saw a few remaining horses disappearing or flying off into the night, golden soldiers after them. Pitch rolled his eyes and took a step around the side of the house, hidden from the moonbeam.

“Sanderson is relentless, but some work was accomplished tonight.” He reports stoically, though Jack can tell he expected complete domination. Jack looked up at the golden cloud he barely remembered falling off of moments ago, or how long had it been?

“Work. So…you made their dreams nightmares?” Jack rose, hands fumbling on the pavement before they grasped around the staff. He didn’t want to leave it, or let it go again for that matter. Pitch gave a simple nod, walking down along the line of houses. Jack hesitated for half a second before following him. “He’s the Sandman? Why did he want to talk to me, or put me to sleep? I almost cracked my head open!”

“I don’t try to understand his motives, boy.” Pitch snarled, a snakelike hiss in his voice as he rounded on the college student. “To irk me, perhaps, have a happy sleeper on my battlefield. He’s a fool to think his dreams are stronger than my fear. It was moments before his hold on you was gone.” He said almost proudly, but began to walk. He didn’t make eye contact with Jack again.

“But you woke me up,” Jack commented in return. “You could’ve just let me have a nightmare and left me there, right?”

“Please, do you think I’d have a good reputation letting idiots drop in the streets for a fit of nightmares, wailing like a man possessed?”

“I was under the impression you didn’t have a reputation with people, since they can’t see you.” Pitch stopped walking. Jack had to backpedal to avoid slamming into him. He took a couple more careful steps away, the shadows on the side of a house turning into morbid creatures and faces with sharp fangs. “You’re welcome, by the way. I kind of stopped him from cracking your head open. But…thanks for not leaving me there. I really have no idea what’s going on.” Jack kneaded his fingers over the staff. He heard the faint howling of angry shadows all around him, teeth bared and wanting to tear him apart. Pitch said nothing, but his shadows seemed sentient enough to understand his comment angered their controller.

“Oh, I don’t believe any of us know what’s going on.” Pitch commented after what felt like hours. “Not with this revelation.”

“Revelation?” Jack looked up at him, but Pitch didn’t move or turn. He remained silent as Sandy. Jack took a few steps around his side, trying to look at him and find out what he was thinking. “They think that I’m-“

“Jack Frost.” He acknowledged, but he wasn’t looking at Jack. The boy scowled but followed his line of vision, staring up at the moon peering around some clouds. “Yes, they believe you’re Jack Frost.”

“But I’m not.” Jack frowned. The staff chilled in his hands but he didn’t mind. The chilly temperature outside now didn’t even faze him in a t-shirt and pants. Pitch drummed his fingers over one of his knuckles. Without a word, Pitch faded down into the grass and along the side of the building with his other creeping shadows, the mass no longer shifting as his presence was gone. Jack frowned, watching the spot for a moment later before his eyes felt heavy once more.

“Man, I really should be in bed.” He took tired steps on scraped feet back to Robin Drive, hoping his family was remained blissfully unaware of the other world colliding with theirs.


	14. Bedtime Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack learns more about what's happening, but it seems even his company isn't sure what's going on.

Jack blearily rubbed his eyes as they fluttered open in the morning. He didn’t particularly remember walking from down the street back into his own bed, but he more-so felt like he was ran over by a truck.

“Ugh,” He groaned, pressing his forehead into the pillowy goodness. When he felt laziness threaten to throw him back into dreamless sleep, he sat up. Jack swayed slightly, blood rushing to his head and aching muscles. He felt the faint tickling of sand behind his eyes, but not as sharp and jarring as the nightmare sand usually was. _“The dream sand probably caught up to me.”_ He thought before swinging his feet over the side of the bed. _“Wow, I actually just said that. Talk about an over-active imagination.”_

A clunk sounded when he swung his feet out over the side of the bed. Without needing to glance down, he sighed as the cool wood of the staff was at the end of the bed. “Right, imagination, schizophrenia. Same difference.” He tore off his pajama clothes for a clean set of jeans and his signature hoodie.

“Jack, are you up?” Mom called from somewhere downstairs. He nodded sleepily before realizing that wasn’t an affirmation she could hear.

“Morning,” Jack’s voice was groggy with sleep and he cleared his throat as the word left him. It was odd to feel so tired and yet…rested? Did he actually have an undisturbed, relatively-normal sleep?

“Morning, only barely, it’s almost noon!” Mom called again, though her voice lowered. Not wanting to shout through the house anymore, he mussed his hair up just enough to be presentable before kicking the staff under his bed. He padded down the short carpet into the kitchenette.

“Can you blame me for enjoying my vacation?” Jack slid onto a seat at the table, snagging a piece of fruit from the bowl. Mom smiled, her curly brown hair frizzy and twirling as though she’d just woken up as well.

“Not at all, honey. You get to relax.”

 

The afternoon was what Jack could call “highschoolish”. Emma came out of her room for lunch and challenged Jack to a Smash Brothers tournament, a challenge he could not refuse without risking his title. After hours of fun and holding in curse words, mom ordered pizza and spent the evening typing on her computer while Jack sat with Emma on the couch watching reruns.

It was only when the sun fell that he realized it was a slight vacation.

He felt a lump form in his throat out of nowhere, his bottle of water being emptied quickly. Every flicker of light from the television or kitchen would make his head turn, inspecting for any movement. A creak in the old floorboards gave him shivers, and he was sure he couldn’t stand it for one more minute.

“I’m going to bed.” Emma declared, rising from her seat on the couch with a stretch. Jack stood also, copying her motions.

“Yeah, you’ve got school tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yup, we don’t get a long weekend like you, butthead.” Jack laughed and nudged Emma away from the television. A quick hug to mom and Jack was following her down the hall to her room. The floors creaked under his bare feet and the anxiety spiked within him. Would Pitch be back? Would his sister get those horrible nightmares, or would dream sand come in? He wasn’t sure what was more unsettling to think about. Seeing the large golden cloud weaving its strands of thread all across town was overwhelming and beyond belief.

“Night, spacey.” Emma held her arms out, shaking Jack from his musings. He bent his torso forward in a more surrounding hug without needing to kneel down to her height. She hated when he did that.

“Night, urchin. I put bugs in your bed.”

“Gross, don’t be a weirdo.” She smiled and Jack laughed again, trying to keep the noise down in his throat. It wasn’t that often he had to quiet his laughter.

“Yeah, and don’t be a zombie if you’re tired when you wake up for school.” Jack ruffled her hair, causing her to slap his arm away. She gave another smile before stepping into her room and pushing the wooden door shut. Jack felt himself standing in the doorway until it shut with a metallic click. His feet forced him away from hovering to go back into his room, computer already running.

Talking to Myth wasn’t as fun as it used to be, Jack had found out. Ever since that dream, his trust wavered however ridiculous it was. Myth couldn’t be Anonymous, he couldn’t know all that about Jack. At the same time, he wasn't sure who else could be behind his recently life-demolishing experiences. There was no word from the bizarre scarecrows and Jack-o-Lantern, at least to his knowledge. He spun in his chair, only making himself more annoyed. The wind pushed against his window, whispering words Jack wasn’t sure were real anymore. The feeling in the room shifted into something more oppressing, and Jack looked up from his computer screen.

It really should’ve worried him that seeing the boogeyman in his room wasn’t surprising anymore.

“Any word from the tweedles?” Jack asked quickly, words leaving his mouth quickly. Pitch seemed to roll his eyes with the silence that went on in the small room.

“None.”

“Oh,” he shrugged, figuring as much. “So…Sandman?” He wasn’t sure how to voice all his questions about the night before. He hoped the one word would suffice for everything, but Pitch ignored him. He turned his desk chair fully to see Pitch’s back to him, taking silent steps by the window and the shadow his closet cast. “You could at least tell me what’s going on! I don’t really like every weird storybook thing acting like they know me!”

He jolted as Pitch assimilated in front of him, towering over the chair. His gold eyes were narrowed and staring straight into Jack’s. I caused his blood to freeze and the brown-eyed boy couldn’t look away.

“You’re only human. You shouldn’t even be able to see them.”

“I got that much,” Jack croaked, amazed he could speak at all. Pitch tilted his head.

“The staff should have only encased you in its magic momentarily. Seems I underestimated that.”

“Underestimated?” Jack sat up in his chair was Pitch strode away again, back to his pacing. “You just gave me the staff so Candles wouldn’t freak out at me, right? But I still have it. Also, the wind is talking. That’s really weird.”

“The Wind is many creatures, but childish as they are they’re not so easily fooled. Something has gone awry.”Pitch grumbled, hardly loud enough for Jack to understand him.

“Explain what’s happening, please. I just wanna know, even if I can’t help.”  Jack hadn’t wanted to resort to begging, but couldn’t stop the tone his voice took. He sat, fingers clenching at his knees where the denim had started to tear. Pitch continued to occupy the other half of the room, keeping it darker even within reach of the ceiling light. He could see the moving shadows climbing the wall like little creatures hunting for something, molding with the shadows from his room’s decorations. He frowned as he stared longer at the dark spirit that showed no signs of actually hearing the boy. He opened his mouth to call to him again when the figure shifted, drumming his barely-visible fingers against his other knuckle.

“I did only procure that staff as Jack Candles wouldn’t see you himself, but also that I assumed he wouldn’t see me. Our tastes in fear are too different, and he very much holds a grudge against me for ruining one of his Halloweens.”

“So you found a magical staff so I could stand there and distract him from hating you?” Jack folded his legs up into his seat more. Pitch scoffed but a smile tugged on his lips. _Obviously yes._

“But it appears even though I intended for that staff to repel you after some time, it’s done the opposite. Curious.” Pitch looked out the window again. Jack faintly wondered if he was watching the dream sand glide through the air and spread things nicer than nightmares.

“So you were wrong?” He frowned as the being and his minions hissed lowly. “You did it to placate me and now they all think I’m Jack Frost. You said there wasn’t a Jack Frost, though?”

“There _was_ a Jack Frost,” he glared over at the young boy, the familiar spark of panic shooting down his spine. He did his best to not flinch. “There hasn’t been one since. The Moon never chose a replacement sprite. It seems that perhaps that was because the staff was out of his grasp.”

“Where did you get this thing from?” He motioned under the bed, where he’d long since left the object they were speaking about. For a piece of old wood it seems heavily important to whatever was happening.

“I said I procured it for you to hide behind.”

“You stole it, then?”

Pitch’s eyes narrowed and glowed in the moonlight he was scowling towards. For a moment it didn’t seem Jack’s words even reached him, as he was glaring at something else.

“What do you mean by the moon choosing a replacement?” Jack pressed, rising from his chair and carefully approaching the window and the Nightmare King. The other spirit didn’t move, only the ends of his robe twitched with life. Jack stopped by his side, looking at his statuesque and sharp features before peering out the window. The moon wasn’t even hidden behind clouds, only at three-quarters, but still appeared larger than usual. His spotted strings of gold streaming around in the distance but avoided scanning for their puppeteer. They stood there in silence for some time, before the being’s chest and shoulders sagged as though he’d been holding his breath.

“The Moon, Jack, is nothing but a man. A powerful man spreading his wealth of powers to spirits on Earth to _protect_ children,” Pitch said the word with guttural hatred Jack didn’t want to comment on. “All those fairy tales were spread by their believers, which fed more believers and led them to be more powerful with their _dreams_ and _wonder_. Other spirits are granted their powers and forgotten, only with a name and a calling and nothing more to live an eternity for.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he looked back up at the Nightmare King, hung on every word and spying every drip of emotion tearing out of the man’s voice. _Anger, Resentment, Pain._ It seemed the story wasn’t so new to the old being.

“And?” He pressed after another silence spanned. It felt wrong breaking the cloud of thought that hung in the room, but it was better than the darkness that usually followed. This feeling was even heavier.

“And sometimes, those spirits do stupid things to not be forgotten.” He stepped away from the window suddenly, the light in the room flickering. Jack blinked as if it’d help his vision, spinning as Pitch went to the back wall.

“You need to tell me more! I can’t pretend to be something I’m not!”

Pitch stopped on the brink of shadows, his form practically becoming one with it and yet not fully disappearing.

“If I did indeed make a mistake, it would seem you won’t need to pretend to be something you aren’t.”

The spirit disappeared, allowing light back into Jack’s room. He wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by darkness and not have all his thoughts screaming at him.

 

Two days came and went without seeing anything out of the ordinary. Jack kept the staff under his bed, though he did find his eyes searching for it in those moments of thought. Pitch didn’t return, and the dream sand didn’t slip through his or his sister’s window. She’d throw a fit if she knew Jack slipped into her room late at night. She was sleeping undisturbed, Jack knowing the feeling of gaining rest and nothing else. The past days had given him that kind of relief in dreamless sleep. He wasn’t sure if he preferred her being left alone or if he really should be wishing that the Sandman helped her dreams be pleasant. For a small and silent man he did invoke quite the curious nature in Jack.

Why would he try putting him to sleep? It was ridiculous for him to try when Jack was so close to the edge of that platform, so did he try to kill him? He shuddered at the thought. Even Pitch’s talons clutching at his throat were just a memory. The thought of another spirit doing something that could have easily ended him was more than enough. By two in the morning Jack grew too restless seeing his sister unharmed and returned to his room. For two days. And then it was Thursday.

Thanksgiving, and holidays in general were unusually quiet in the Overland household. Jack’s grandparents lived far away, and even then they were his father’s parents. For Christmas and Birthdays he’d receive a card (though the days were close together and he usually just got one card for both occasions). But Thanksgiving was one of those days were Mom worked in the kitchen alone, the only sound in the house being her cooking. Emma as she’d gotten older helped her with the simple things, while Jack sat in his room or on the couch. The quiet was calming, usual, and yet completely unsettling. Something inside Jack was clawing at him to get out, go do something. He wasn’t sure what he was craving though, so he remained.

“What’re you thankful for, Emma?”

“Mom, we’ve had to do this in school!” Emma chuckled, seated at the table of food across from her brother. Jack rolled his eyes but knew exactly what she meant. “I’m thankful for…getting to have a meal together as a family again.”

“What about you, Jack?” Mom looked back to her right where the older child sat. He licked his lips, eyes darting as he tried to think of something sappy.

“Well, uh, kind of the same thing.”

“Not fair, no copying!” Emma bounced in her chair slightly. Jack stuck her tongue out at her and drummed his fingers on the tabletop a few more times.

“Fine. I’m thankful we’re together in general, and that I get a long break with you guys.” Jack waved a dismissive hand but kept the smile plastered on his face. Emma rolled her eyes but smiled, mom mimicking her.

“We better dig in before the food gets cold trying to think of more corny things, right?” Mom took a bowl of mashed potatoes in her hands, serving herself and passing it along to Jack. He nodded and continued the passing chain, their small circle completed in no time at all. Emma was persistently trying to get up from her seat to serve pie, though mom insisted to wait until after dinner. Even with the small bird being passed around between the three of them, leftovers would still be in the Overland’s futures.

Jack had a plateful before his stomach revolted, feeling heavier than normal. It wasn’t just his sleeping that was becoming abnormal.

“Jack!” His head shot up from his last forkful of turkey to see Emma standing from her chair, barely over the table. “Apple or Pumpkin?” He swallowed down the thoughts of what pumpkins brought him: carved out candy-corn eyes, fall colors, piles of leaves and the smell of harvest around covering something that seemed much more sinister. Candles seemed alright but there was something about his choice of residence and air that made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to think about the spirit now.

“Small piece of apple, please.”

Emma hopped away into the kitchen, leaving Jack to lean back in his wooden chair. Paranoia must be another one of his most recent afflictions. He didn’t say another word when Emma gave him his and his mother plates, amiably chatting with her between bites. Jack finished most of his slice before his stomach protested again, adding another stone to weigh him down.

“May I be excused?” Jack had already risen from his chair by the time he’d said the words. Mom and Emma looked up at him, the boy giving a weak smile.

“Sure thing, honey. What time do you want to go tomorrow?” Mom stood as well, taking up plates of food to save for the rest of the week.

“Tomorrow?” He frowned, raising a thick eyebrow. _Oh._ “Uh, whenever I guess.” Mom seemed to notice his hesitation over Black Friday once again, but offered a warming smile.

“How about ten? You can get some decent sleep then.”

“Right, I hate mornings.” _And shopping centers,_ he mused but turned down the narrow hall of the house. He slipped into his room and shut the door silently behind him. He flicked on the light switch and wasn’t surprised when the shadows seemed reluctant to duck away. “So, is there some kind of decorated turkey-man for today?”

He heard a low chuckle and smiled.

“If there was I would not be surprised if he preferred to remain unknown.”

“If he didn’t, Santa would behead him.” Jack made a slicing motion with his arms before dropping into his computer chair. He didn’t bother starting it up: he had Pitch talking now and that was rare enough. It was short lived, considering the darkness growled at his last saying. “C’mon, you’re supposed to find beheading funny.”

“Do not test me, boy.”

“What did you mean by what you said the other day?” He was, again, getting used to hearing silence as his reply. It reminded him that he was getting to know the other’s quirks, but also left the option that he really was going insane. “About not having to pretend to be something I’m not?” Silence spanned for a while longer, but Jack waited, staring hard into the darkest part of the room. Eventually, the shadows twisted, shadows casting on the wall. He jumped shortly, expecting the horrible things with teeth to gnaw at the plaster but stopped as the shapes turned into pine trees. They shifted as if a breeze was pushing them, making them not nearly as menacing.

“There was a Jack Frost before,” Pitch started, a small shape walking onto the wall jerkily with the staff. “He partnered with the wind to fly and create a mess of flurries and frost, naturally. A nuisance.” Pitch mumbled as the image of the boy flew into the air acrobatically, snowflakes falling. “I do not see how the wind would take such an interest in you if you’re not somehow connected to Jack Frost’s powers.”

“You’re…you’re basically saying everyone thinks I’m Jack Frost because…the staff made me Jack Frost.” Jack raised an eyebrow, resting his arms on his thighs. The shadow of Pitch cast over the corner of the wall turned slightly towards him before nodding, barely noticeable.

“Tell me more.” Jack swallowed and watched the trees of shadows part. A tall silhouette of a woman was made with the flying sprite coming from the tree tops.

“The previous Frost went to Mother Nature. He wanted to control winter, cause more intense storms and be a regular memory instead of a fading transition between seasons. She refused.”  The trees disappeared as the Jack Frost flew away. They reappeared as houses and buildings, cars dappled along in barely visible adjustments of the shadows.  They were macerated together in some kind of collision, making Jack lean forward to catch their glimpses. “His ice became less of a tool for mischief as he used it in a much more dangerous method.” Pitch seemed to want to say he agreed with this method, but continued. “Instead of children getting bruises or colds from playing too long, they broke bones and fell and even adults were affected by black ice on roads.”

“How do you know all of this?” Jack interrupted as the scene got much more graphic. The Nightmare King’s minions seemed to enjoy their picture books and made merry with illustrating the tale.

“It is hard for me to miss anything when I’m everywhere there is darkness, boy. Most every being knows this tale.”

“Why?”  Jack grumbled as Pitch ignored him again, the scenery going back to the woods with the woman.

“Mother Nature called the spirit to her after she’d discovered what he’d done, and granted his wish of power. With a price.” The Jack Frost stopped flying, standing slouched and even frailer than before, the staff a crutch as he shivered. “He could control the domain of Winter, but he was no longer allowed to see to the children or snow-making personally, banished to some corner of the world.”

“Are the kids that big of a deal?” Jack swallowed, feeling a chill in his spine as the fearlings dragged the rickety form of a winter spirit through some jagged path of icicles.

“According to the Moon and his precious guardians,” Pitch grumbled and waved a hand, the shadows dispersing. “I’m not bound to them. I feed off their nightmares, but adults can have them as well, just much less entertaining.”

“So…Jack Frost wanted to be remembered, and like, have believers like you,” Pitch stiffened, a much more tangible form in his room now. “But he didn’t get it, so he was punished to be alone, forever? That’s hardly fair.”

Pitch’s eyes pierced Jack’s and he swallowed a lungful of air.

“Nothing about what some of us are is _fair._ You, especially, some pathetic human being called to fill some role. It will not happen.”

“I never said I wanted it to!” He frowned. “I have problems getting through classes and being haunted by a dude in a robe, why would I want to fly around and have snowball fights?”

“I was under the impression you rather liked those things.”

“Not the point,” Jack grumbled and stood. “You gave me the staff, you probably stole it from this other guy and now I’m gonna end up like him, aren’t I?” Pitch gave an uninterested shrug, though his eyes were dark and unfocused, clearly thinking.

“Unable to tell.” Pitch frowned, drumming his fingers again. “This has not occurred before.”

“All I wanted was to find out who sent me some e-mail and got you summoned to my room, you know.”

“Thoroughly aware,” the spirit growled. “I wish to find this being as well, if you are thick enough to not realize.”

“So we should be doing something about it! Go ask your Moon or those Guardians if they know.” Jack crossed his arms and got another glare, the shadowmancer appearing in front of him, towering.

“You are thick. The moon is not _mine_ and the guardians are as useless as a brat like you.”

Jack glared, frowning up at the more-menacing being. “Fine, insult me. I already said I’m not afraid of you, and if we’re both going to find this e-mail dude we both are together. So deal with it.” Unsurprisingly, Pitch let out a hiss and vanished, his shadows following him under the bed. Jack clenched his fists and leveled his breathing. He jumped slightly as the shadows threw the staff out from under his bed so it bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor.

He stomped over and picked it up, moving over to the window and pulled it open. The wind rushed in, blowing past his ears again in quietly whispered hellos.

“Hi. Think we can sneak out for a while?” He flicked his room light off in time for the wind to loop around his limbs and haul him out the window. He gasped at the awkward position, but felt himself able to move in the wind’s grasp to be comfortable and less stiff. He took a deep breath of fresh air as he was carried high up towards the clouds, the houses disappearing. A spike of fear trembled through him at the height, but no sleepiness was going to shake his balance, and the wind wasn’t malicious enough to drop him. He smiled as it whirled him around, showing how fast it could move. “Okay, so I’m not used to this. Teach me what you can!” the wind cheered and shot him off like a rocket over the town. Jack shut his eyes and welcomed the chill making his body positively brisk while totally relaxed. Even with his eyes closed he felt every gentle twirl of winds branching off across the world, some calmer than others. He felt able to pick among the strands and feel his body following that one, letting it take him wherever it led.

By the time he opened his eyes his sock-covered feet settled on the bough of a tree branch, no snow in sight. He must have traveled for a while, because it was completely dark all around and stars covered the sky overhead. “Whoa.” He swallowed, looking around. He didn’t recognize the place at all, but the weather seemed the same, aside from the lack of snow dusting the ground.

His hand shook as he clutched the staff. Why wasn’t there snow here like everywhere else? Winters weren’t usually this mild at the end of November. He blinked and felt his arm lift and wave the staff above him. A gasp tore itself from his throat as frost particles started to come from the epicenter of the crook. Even when he pulled his arm back down, clutching it close, the frost continued. His breathing became faster as the dense green trees started to be covered in thicker flakes of snow. He nearly stumbled off the tree bough and used a hand to steady himself along the trunk. A whimper left him as his fingers left floral frost coating the bark. _No, no, no._

“Wind, I wanna go home.” The wind coiled around his waist and carried him up into the air, letting him ride on them as they took off. Jack clenched the staff harder, even his eyes closing as he thought. He wasn’t Jack Frost, he was Jackson Overland, recovering internet addict with some weird social anxiety. There couldn’t be some dark spirit in his room, or a gust from outside carrying him around, and he definitely couldn’t conjure his own snowfall.

No, none of those things could be real.

He opened his eyes as his feet touched cold grass, the wind gently depositing him in his front lawn. “Thanks.” He smiled to nothing. The lights in the house were all off, and with enough foresight Jack knew the door would be locked. He slipped around to the side of the house to his still-open room window. He pulled himself up carefully, having to use the staff to help vault himself up, surprised at how sturdy it was.

The window slid shut easily behind him. Jack’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough, able to make out the slight shapes of his furniture. He set the staff to lean against his closet, ignoring the gurgling shadows in its pitch black depths. The clock next to his bed told him it was nearly two in the morning, and he sighed heavily.

Tomorrow was going to be a long and as-normal-as-possible day.


	15. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's first Black Friday goes exactly not according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for college taking up some time, just please be aware that I won't always get this out on Saturdays! It also took longer because I decided to add to the ending, but uh, yeah, have fun with this.

Jack roused with a nudge to his shoulder. The unfamiliar contact made him shy away, eyes trying to perceive his sun-bathed room and the person that woke him, shaking off the sleep.

“Morning, Jack. Get ready, we’ll leave in an hour, okay?” Mom didn’t bother to whisper. Jack grunted some form of affirmation, watching as the woman left the room. He heard her steps in the kitchen, as well as softer and quicker steps down the hall. Seems he was the last one awake. With another sigh he forced himself up out of bed slowly, stretching once he was able to avoid lightheadedness.

 _“Ready as ever,”_ he got onto his feet and acquired a clean set of clothes, similar to what he already had on the past week. His shower was quick and when he got out he barely remembered it, still trying to wake up fully. His brain could only draw one conclusion: today was Black Friday and he was going. He shivered, tugging on his sweater over his damp hair. Jack didn’t bother doing anything with the style, letting it plaster haphazardly over his head and would probably dry in some manner he’d like anyway.

He padded across the floor of his room, grabbing his phone off the side table. He hardly used the thing and even rarer got messages. A short “Happy Thanksgiving!” was no-doubt a mass text that Jacie sent many people the evening before. He didn’t bother replying to that. A quick glance around the room noted he had nothing else to grab for his adventure, and yet he wanted to prolong going out of the safety of his room. His eyes lingered on the wooden crook where he left it against the wall, resisting the urge to grab and walk with it. That would surely be a sign he was going insane. “Pitch?” He said just above a whisper, figuring his volume didn’t matter. He could yell and the spirit wouldn’t hear him, and yet he could only think something and have it be picked up immediately.

He didn’t hear anything, likely due to the time. He stepped over to the window and pulled the curtains, blocking out the overcast but still-bright sun. “I’m going out again, and, I guess I’m scared. So don’t be a weirdo in public. Go hunt scarecrows or sandmen for all I care.”

A chuckle, of course. He really had to teach the spirit that laughing at things that weren’t meant to be funny just made a bad impression worse. “I mean it. Go haunt someone else where it’s nighttime. You’re on a weirdly too-nice streak.” Jack grinned as the creak of floorboards and a faint sound of scratching signified cat-like irritation. It was all the confidence he needed to take his steps out into the hallway.

“Morning!” Emma called, seeing Jack from the couch. He nodded to her, still keeping the sideways grin.

“Morning, yeah. What’s the deal with those?” Emma giggled, rolling her wide eyes.

“You just stay up too late and melt in sunlight, like a vampire.”

“Yes, exactly like a vampire,” He waved his fingers at her, moving into a crouching stalk as he approached where she sat. “Thirsty for blood only when the moon rises and the Devil’s hour comes!”  Emma gave a squeal as Jack lunged, hanging over the arm of the couch as she floundered to the other end.

“You’re weird!” Emma started laughing, especially when Jack’s spirit-fingers started to tickle her ankles.

“Jack, get some breakfast before we go.” Mom appeared behind them, giving Emma a look too. “And you, miss, get a piece of fruit. Three Pop-Tarts is not breakfast.” Jack chuckled and didn’t bother listening to his little sister’s childish justifications, fixing a bowl of cereal for himself. Lucky Charms seemed to settle the nerves in his stomach, or replaced the jumpiness with the sugar shivers.

“Ready?” He heard again after several more minutes. Emma nodded, brown hair bouncing over her shoulders, even though mom was looking directly to the other Overland. Jack tapped his spoon on the edge of his bowl a couple times before standing, setting the dishes into the sink.

“Yep.” He said, biting back the more natural responses like _as I’ll ever be_ or _I guess._ Emma lead the way out to the Bonneville their mother drove, making her way to the passenger door.

“Shotgun!” Jack called with a grin as his sister only just pulled the door open. She sneered at him.

“I got here first!”

“Didn’t call it,” Jack pointedly remarked, sliding along the car’s length between the door and his sister. He took a seat and crossed his arms and legs, shoulders straight and head high. “’Tis my throne, now.”

“Yeah yeah, that’s only okay because you’re visiting!” Emma moved to the backseat, allowing Jack to shut his door and slouch more comfortably. Cars weren’t his favorite space: even the drive from campus home was torture over a couple of hours. Twenty minutes to the mall and an awaiting swarm of people would be just as suffocating. Mom slid into her seat and started the car with no preamble, pulling out of the driveway.

 _It won’t be so bad,_ He assured himself while watching residences pass by out the window. The pros were significant: spend time with the family, get out of the house, not be disrupted by invisible spirit holidays. The cons weighed heavier on him: crowds, always disliked. Close proximity was part of that, as was the loudness. There wasn’t a nearby room he could lock himself away in if his mind and breath started to go a million miles an hour: he’d have to bear it.

He assured himself nothing would cause him panic.

The car ride was quiet, the droning of the radio only background to thoughts. He appreciated it, but knew it’d be vastly different once in the shopping center. He hoped he was the only one worrying about what might happen though; he didn’t want the rest of his family thinking about how he could royally mess something up. _It won’t happen, it won’t happen, you can do this._

Jack threw himself into the present when the car gave a small lurch and the gears shifted into park. Emma was hastily removing her seatbelt while mom grabbed her purse, glancing up at Jack while she did. He forced a smile but felt the onset of a headache, which probably left him paler than he already was. She smiled and gingerly patted him on the shoulder as Emma got out of the car before doing the same herself. Jack slid out as well, stuffing jittering hands into his jacket pocket.

The group of three crossed the parking lot to an entrance door. The mall wasn’t anything fantastic, but it did have a couple double level department stores and a mediocre food court. Jack swallowed as they crossed the threshold and _sound_ was barraging his ears. People, talking, walking, moving. There were mechanical sounds from store security or the quarter-operated machines dispersed randomly around the flat carpet. Clothing stores playing a station different to each other in a competition to be the loudest and most obnoxious, the pathways between them just sounding like hell’s orchestra. That was by hearing alone, he disliked the place, and he hadn’t even had to cross paths with another person yet.

“This way first,” Mom made sure Emma was near her. Jack didn’t blame her, for all the guilt he held his mother was still equally aware of what could happen in public. He shook his head of the thought of amusement rides, street grills, and chatter to focus on the smaller but also loud collection of strangers. Jack treaded behind Emma, mom adjacent to his walking path but close enough for him to feel a little better without having to hold her hand. He could do this, of course. It was over twelve years ago, and he wasn’t a child.

Without even paying attention he was led into a store. The music was even louder but still unintelligible and part of Jack groaned as he realized it was some expensive teenager-designated store. Shopping wasn’t his thing, ever, regardless of the amount of people brushing past him or moving all the hangers on racks with metallic sliding noises.

“Jack, do you like this?” Mom held up a zip-up hoodie, a little darker than the one he was wearing at the moment.

“Mom, I don’t need a new sweater.”

“They’re on sale, Jack. Even if you always wear them you can switch it up every few days, right?” She held it up to his shoulders for sizing until Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine.”

“You like pullovers more than zippers, right?”

“Mom, anything is fine.” He glanced down at his little sister who was distractedly running her hands over the row of sleeves. He held his breath as a group of boys brushed past them, only one uttering an ‘excuse us’ while the others talked and pushed through the racks. Jack shook his head to clear it. This was going to be hard.

“How about a black zippered one and a backup blue pullover?” Jack looked back over to see mom riffling through more sweaters marked down to ten dollars. “Unless you want to vary your closet colors.” She smiled over at him, eyes soft. _She’s trying,_ Jack reminded himself, and absently nodded.

“Those are good.” He nodded a few times, whether as emphasis or releasing the nervous energy. Mom smiled again and lead them back around, pointing out a few other things that caught her eye. Emma was restlessly trailing behind and Jack waved off several items. He was in no short supply of clothing, though mom did grab a new pair of jeans and convinced him into some cargos.

They left the store, Jack carrying his bag of things. It gave his hand something to do, fingers adjusting their position on the handles every few seconds. The stores were more claustrophobic but in the main chamber it was more obvious how many people were around. He picked out middle-aged women, younger couples pulling around children, large throngs of friends of varying ages laughing loudly. He shuffled to walk behind mom whenever someone else was heading the opposite direction they were, and ended up staying there for a while longer before raising his head. _You need to try, too, Overland._

“That’s cute!” Emma said, surprisingly loud enough over the cacophony of the shoppers. She tugged mom’s sleeve, ushering the group across the floor to another store. A new selection of young girls clothing was decorated with musical notes and instruments, of course with splashes of bright colors around. Jack never took his sister to like the same things as other girls, but he figured there wasn’t much selection otherwise. Jack hung back in the early teens store just as his sister had done in the other store, instead keeping his vision at the colorfully carpeted floor.

“-try it on.” He looked back up as he saw Emma’s feet step quickly away from the rack of clothing. She went to the sectioned off rooms behind the back wall, excitedly getting a store employee’s attention. Clothes were thrown in piles underneath the racks of full hangers. They were obviously busy even if Jack was ignoring everyone else in the room. Mom stood a fair distance from the rooms, not wanting to get caught in the clutter of other people going in and out like a fashion show. Jack leaned on the rack across from her, fingers once more entertaining the handle of his bag.

“You’re awesome, Jack.” He looked up from under his hair to see mom smiling. “Thank you for coming with us.”

“Em doesn’t know, does she?” Jack stuffed his free hand into his hoodie pocket. Mom’s smile faltered.

“Kind of hard to mention to her,” Mom shrugged, though Jack could practically feel the guilt. “Besides the point: I’m really proud of you. It, it might sound silly but facing a fear is a good way to get rid of it, right?”

Jack really didn’t like the fear talk, considering it flooded his memories with the spirit most associated with it. _Saturated with it,_ he’d said. Jack wasn’t afraid, he was conditioned.

“I get what you mean,” he nodded. “I bet we could’ve started slower though, huh?” He grinned. Mom chuckled a little, glancing at the dressing rooms as a door opened, though it wasn't Emma.

“Right, though I dunno if this opportunity would go to waste.” Mom shrugged, running one hand through her hair. He rolled his eyes again but continued to smile. He hated the shopping, hated how the people swarmed around and made a big event of the day after Thanksgiving, but he didn’t hate mom for wanting him to get better. He just wasn't sure he could be fixed.

Emma bounced out of her dressing room moments later, clothes still over her arm as she chattered away to mom about which she liked most. Jack followed silently behind them, veering out of other young girls’ paths until they finally exited the store. Of course mom carried the bag for Emma, and the youngest Overland led them down the halls of the mall.

“Can we get some lunch now?” She asked as mom stopped at a store to browse a marked-off rack. She grimaced at an awful paisley printed blouse before smiling down at Emma.

“Sure, we’re almost at the food court.” Jack didn’t want to comment about how the food court was shitty and only had five options, but figured it still satisfied the definition. Emma was listing off restaurants she thought were in the court, being corrected by her mother as some had closed down since she last recalled. Jack didn’t really remember any of them, not that he would have known them in the first place. Mom always did his shopping; there was no need for him to go to the mall, let alone the food court. Once they arrived, Emma’s energy was at full capacity with the amount of people having conversations, others waiting in line, and the smell of deep fried foods drifting over the rows of chairs and tables.

“I want chicken nuggets,” she stated proudly as they walked (of course) to McDonald’s. “But not a Happy Meal. I’m twelve, mom.”

“And the toys suck.” Jack supported with a sneer to his little sister. “Unless you want a My Little Pony.”

“Gross. No way.” She nudged him a little. “You should get a Big Kids Meal for being a Big Jerk.”

“That’s Burger King, honey. Behave.” Mom said with a smile as Jack moved to nudge her back. He recoiled and nodded, standing in the line unnecessarily.

“I’m gonna find a spot for us to sit, kay?” Emma had waited in line for around eight seconds before declaring. Jack felt the hesitation coiling deep in his gut, until mom patted him on the shoulder.

“Take Jack with you, I’ll be over.”

“A number one for me, mom.” Jack felt his voice practically whisper, though it raised in volume as a small hand tugged him away. Emma weaved him around tiny spaces of tables, strewn chairs and trash cans to a near-vacant section of seats.  She grimaced as crumbs coated her designated spot, but Jack pulled her back, swiping at them with his hands to clear the table.

“It’s fine, miss neat freak.”

“I’m not a neat freak,” She muttered and took a seat, her smiling overtaking her again. “I just don’t like dirty tables in a food court.”

“It’s Black Friday, the workers aren’t going to put forth effort in cleaning this place.” He tugged out the chair across from her and dropped down, kicking the shopping bag under the table. His eyes scanned the area, passing over blurred faces and droning out a mixture of conversations. The table Emma selected was in a relatively cleared section, the nearest group of people at the table adjacent to theirs cutting coupons. He could feel the faint vibrations of the table as Emma kicked her feet and her toes hit the support pole.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Emma’s voice made Jack turn his head back towards her. She further raised an eyebrow while Jack processed he’d practically spun around in his chair observing the room.

“Thing? What _thing_ am I doing?” He smiled, setting elbows on the table.

“The thing where you zone out and stare at everyone like a deer…with uh, lights.”

“Deer in headlights,” He corrected, forcing the rasp out of his voice. “I don’t do that.”

“I’m the one that can see your face, goof.” She smiled wider, knowing it’d force Jack to smile too. It hurt a little, not so much on his face but in his chest. The last thing he needed was his sister to worry. He turned in his chair again, this time getting his eyes to focus on mom across the court, trying to carry two trays, drinks, and Emma’s shopping bag. _I should’ve grabbed that,_ He sighed and rose from his seat. Two steps away he looked back over his shoulder.

“Hang tight, I’m making sure your nuggets don’t cover the filthy floor.”

“Kay.” Emma nodded as Jack turned away, walking briskly across the floor to take a tray from mom’s fingers. She helped rebalance her hold on the other objects while Jack easily carried the tray with drinks over towards the table.

“Thanks, Jack.” She smiled, following Jack around to the table, maneuvering well around the careless passerbys. Emma sat up straighter in her chair when the older two took their places, handing out lunch. For a twelve year old she was ravenous, eating a chicken nugget before Jack even got his burger box open.

“Did you get ketchup?” She mumbled, stopping crumbs coming from her mouth. Jack rolled his eyes at her and put a couple fries in his mouth.

“I think I forgot,” Mom checked the bags just in case. “Napkins too.”

“I’ll get ‘em,” Emma hopped up onto her feet and strode down the clear aisle of tables. Jack chewed over his food, not used to eating so regularly unlike at school. Deep fried and cholesterol-packed meals were heavier to stomach but exactly what he needed.

“So is there anything you want to look for while we’re here?” Mom commented as Jack chewed his large bite of processed calories.

“I can’t think of much…I mean, maybe a set of headphones. My ear buds are getting shot.”

“We can look for those,” Mom nodded, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich.

“I don’t really need them, they’ll hold out for a while.”

“The fact you mentioned it means it’s been on your mind, right?” She smiled. _“That’s hardly been what’s on my mind,”_ Jack resisted saying but nodded.

“I’ll see. I can’t really think of much else.” Jack shrugged, eating a couple more fries in one bite.

“Do you need a new computer? They’re really cheap too, I saw some in the ads for—”

“Nah, my computer is fine. It’s only like three years old anyways.” Jack mumbled slightly. Was he really sitting in a crowded mall with his mom talking about shopping? It was starting to come across even more bizarre than sharing a room with an old-as-piss Nightmare King.

“How old is old then?” Mom took another bite.

“Computers are usually every five years.” He shrugged.

“Well then, in two years, we can go out for deals on Black Friday and there’ll be something fancier.”

“Yeah, like Windows 8.” Jack made some kind of bedazzled hand gesture before taking another bite of his food. A couple more fries in his mouth brought him pause. No ketchup, no Emma. He dropped his sandwich back into the box and turned in his chair, the wood creaking over the tiles. Mom glanced over at him, confusion over her face before Jack was already brushing past her, out of his seat. He waded through the crowd of people, terror racing through him as his shoulders bumped too many of them. He got up to the McDonald’s counter, but didn’t see what he’d gotten up for. He looked around quickly, feeling the twinge of fear up his spine. _No no no where is she? It doesn’t take that long. She can’t be lost. Where’d she go, dammit?_

He felt something like a kick to the back of his heel. It nearly sent him scrambling away until he saw a single strand of darkness cast a bit too far from an advertising flag. It wove around his shoe, pointing down the cleared path of storefronts. He didn’t even linger for a second, no thoughts wasted on how insane he was for thinking it was a sign. He knew it had to be; he had nothing else to believe in. Jack cared even less that the next thing he could hear over the blood pounding in his ears was his heavy footsteps racing down the cleared paths, angling himself as if the wind was carrying him again. A few shouted protests went unheard as he rounded the corner back to the main carpet halls of the mall.

“Em—” He exhaled heavily, not sure when he’d held his breath. He crouched slightly, eyes scanning everything. Short, brown hair, green—was it green? It had to be, her favorite color. Sneakers that were purple but white faded parts around the heel and toe from running. Come on, come—

He leapt up again and raced around the next corner, at the heels of stained white and purple feet.

“Emma!” He shouted, pushing his way around a group that spontaneously appeared in front of him. The short brunette turned her head, bright eyes going even wider as she turned to approach him, the grip over her forearm tightening in a firm grasp.

“Hey buddy, watch where you’re—” The man with the hand that _dare hold Emma_ didn’t finish the remark as a fist collided with his jaw. Emma shrieked, yanking her hand away the second the man stumbled and threatened to drag her down too. Jack went blind to everything, not even seeing Emma at the point the man regained his footing, standing a good half foot taller and 150 pounds heftier than the college student. “You fucking—” He swung back, and Jack wasted no time sliding himself to the left. Two strong kicks of his feet let him charge and slam straight into the man, tackling him to the hard carpeted floor of the mall to further release an onslaught of fists to his face. _Don’t you dare this isn’t happening to me it’s not happening to_ her _how fucking **dare you**._

Jack’s fist made impact with the man’s nose for the third or fourth time; he’d lost count, but hit him again to make it a four or a five. He wasn’t sure how many times he added to the number to attempt making it even. His knuckles hurt, throbbing with bruises that would probably form within the hour. He never knew how to fight or throw a punch but this was good a time as any to get it out. Hands gripped his shoulders and forearms, hauling him back into the moment where there were people giving him wide berth, many voices, some louder than others.

“Enough! Enough, off!” Another, older and gruffer voice said over his shoulder as he forced Jack back off the tackled abductor. The world spun for a moment before he felt his back get propped against a wall. His legs failed and he dropped onto his rear, catching his breath as his vision cleared. Oh, there were lots of people, a group of five or so security guards around the fallen man. He couldn’t see if they were helping or cuffing him or whatever it is they do, more so focused on all the eyes trained on him. A soft noise broke through the rest of the mess as he looked over to his left, Emma sobbing next to him on her knees. When they made eye contact she attached herself to his shoulder, tugging the baggy material and burying her face into it.

“Jack, oh my god.” The sound made his eyes roll up to his right, the vision of his mother crouching next to him becoming a bit of a blur. _“She’s crying too.”_ His mind constructed the thought as she cupped his face in her hands. “Oh my god, Jack. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetie. It’s okay, okay…” Why was she consoling him? From everything he just remembered he’d attacked someone in a mall, and by the wet feeling over his fingers he assumed he drew blood, whether his own or the other’s.  He opened his mouth, a broken noise coming out before he managed the words: “My fault.”

“No, no, relax. You’re okay…Emma’s okay. You’re both okay. I’m so sorry. Never should have happened, not again.” Jack blinked a few times when his vision vanished, only to realize he’d been pulled into a hug. His head was pounding, but everything was piecing together better.

“Emma,” he gasped and pried himself just far enough out of his mother’s grip to pull Emma away from his shoulder, clutching her to his chest. “Emma, jesus.” She sniffled pathetically. Jack recalled she hadn’t been crying before he’d done something that stupid. She was afraid of him. He couldn’t piece it together any other way.

“Yer smushing me,” she said, her voice wet. Jack shook his head, chin buried in her always-messy hair. “You’re doing that thing.” She said again after what felt like hours, Jack’s eyes on her hairline while police began shooing people away.

“What thing,” he whispered, amazed a word that wasn’t Emma came out of his mouth.

“The spacey deer….deer in headlights.” She sniffled.

“Sorry.” He pulled her closer still, practically curling up around her.

“Guys,” A gentle hand on his shoulder said. “Come on, we …we should go. I’ll talk to them. Just up off the floor for a little, okay?” Emma nodded in Jack’s arms, nudging them until the words sunk in. He carefully picked himself back onto his feet, leaning heavily on the wall and still keeping Emma close, arms hooked around her shoulders loosely now. He grimaced as his right fist definitely had some blood on it, part cut from where he must have hit teeth and turning a shade of purple. He pulled it behind himself to avoid getting it anywhere near his little sister.

“Ma’am, we need to speak with him,” he picked up on the conversation that felt farther away than it actually was.

“Sir, he’s had a hard time. I can explain better, okay?”

“Ma’am,”

“Katherine.” Mom replied briskly. “I know I wasn’t there but I know my children, sir. Please let me explain and take them home.” Jack flinched, feeling like he could cut the silence with a knife. The creeping of hair-rising on the back of his neck made him open his eyes slightly.  They traveled up, looking from under the canopy of a pretzel shop, no less, where the shadows were stronger.

“Thank you,” Jack whispered the same time his mother said back to the officer, obviously getting him to agree. He stood there, head leaned back onto the cool brick staring up into the darkest reaches of the awning. The shadows twisted into the little urchins he’d seen manipulating his walls before, making geometric shapes and whatnot. He didn’t smile, but saw the care they took in distracting where his eyes wandered. He finally got a glimpse of golden irises looming down on him when there was a hand back on his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, I’ve got our things.” Mom ran her fingers through Jack’s hair, coaxing him away from the wall. Jack nodded, finally letting go of Emma so they could walk. She interlaced their fingers, gently reminding her brother she was there. There was zero chance she was still unaware of what caused such an outburst from the normally-complacent Jack. They arrived home with no talk. Jack sat on the toilet lid while mom dressed his hand. He walked up to the door to his room, glancing out into the living room where Mom held Emma to her side on the couch, stroking her hair. He grimaced, chest hurting once more as he went into the bedroom. He didn’t bother with the lights, sun still filtering in through his closed blinds. He slipped under the covers immediately, tugging them over his head and welcoming the darkness lulling him to sleep.

 

His nap felt too short as he opened his eyes fully, pushing himself onto his elbows. Jack panted, seeing nothing but dark, until he flung an arm, getting the cover off from over his head. The sun had stopped filtering in through the window, the room overcastted and dark. A clock on his desk said it was around six, so he hadn’t slept long at all. His stomach growled angrily, churning with hunger and—

He threw himself out from bed and swung open the door to his bathroom. A quick slide on his knees to the porcelain bowl was enough to upset his stomach enough to vacate it promptly, all the processing from a short lunch thrown out. Jack coughed, getting the toilet paper to wipe the mess from his face while he sat back onto his calves. He breathed through his mouth, not risking the awful sensation of his olfactory sense with his most recent sickness. When his head cleared, the throbbing subsiding to a dull ache, he got to his feet and flushed away the evidence of a McDonald’s run. Jack ran the sink water, filling the basin and splashing it over himself repeatedly.

The bandages wrapped around his knuckles and palm became damp, causing him to groan in some frustration. They hadn’t been bled through but every movement of his fingers sent that sharp stab of discomfort down his arm. He ignored it, continuing to splash water over his face until the sink almost filled to the lip with water. It drained loudly, though Jack slipped a cup under the faucet and drank water. The taste left his senses slowly, his skin cooling. His hair started to stand on end, sending a shiver through his spine.

“Thanks again,” Jack croaked, coughing and taking another gulp of water. He hadn’t bothered with the bathroom light, so he was still cased in darkness.

“For what? Denying a little girl some more realistic nightmares?” The suave tone echoed through the small tiled bathroom. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if he was an eerie shadow cast behind the shower curtain. He still stared at the glass in his hand, and the water making a tornado as it slipped down the drain.

“Yes.” He took another breath, looking up into the mirror. Pitch’s form was visible, but still not tangible, his shadow casting behind Jack’s and bending with the shower’s curtain. “I’d rather have her afraid of me than that…that.” He tore his eyes away again. Pitch scoffed.

“Afraid of you, adorable.”

“She is,” His brow furrowed, only make his head hurt more. “What kind of brother zones out in fear, then turns around and beats a man’s face in in front of their little sister…and now she knows. She knows I almost had that happen to me too. What’re the odds, right?” He let out a laugh that sounded more like a breath of air. He shut his eyes loosely, not feeling tired or overwhelmed now. He was awake, rested, disturbed but content. He’ made a mess and yet he’d done the right thing, the only thing he could think of.

“Jack,” Pitch replied after what felt like an hour. He opened his eyes slowly and saw the embodiment of fear, very tangible now, looming over his shoulder. He stared into the mirror, somehow visible through it (for whatever reason, Jack imaged him to be invisible like a vampire with mirrors. But seeing was believing), eyes locking with Jack’s. That was when the boy’s eyes widened, his breath freezing in his lungs.

Vivid, glimmering golden irises trained directly to his own, his left eye a deep caramel, and the right a ghostly shade of ice blue. His hands flew up to his face, tugging at his eyelids and watching his pupils dart from side to side, taking in everything in front of him. Damp fingers tangled up into his never-in-place hair, tugging at the roots. Another quiet noise left his throat as the centered part of his hair revealed some shine to his hairline. Jack’s knees were on the countertop in second, pressing the top of his head to the mirror while a hand lashed out and flicked on the light switch. The roots of his hair turned grey, and sparkled in the overhead lighting like fresh-fallen snow. Jack’s breath came in short bursts, ignoring how it coated over the mirror in frosty and smooth designs.

“What’s happening,” he mouthed,, continuing to stare as if he’d metamorphoses in an instant. “What’s _happening.”_

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” The spirit, still very much there even in the light watched as Jack took frantic breaths, easing his face from the glass. “If any consolation, your fear is glorious right now.”

“Wow,” He sighed, licking his dry lips and sliding off the counter.  “Shut the fuck up.” 


	16. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's surviving the night after Black Friday, and makes sure his sister will as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't apologize enough for lack of time to write, lack of motivation, and frankly lack of direction at this point. School has really slapped me hard and updates will be incredibly various as much as I'd love to get something posted regularly.

Jack was surprised that his abrupt “shut the fuck up” actually had the desired effect on the older being.

Pitch disappeared, leaving the bathroom and its single light bulb illuminating the space. Jack watched his reflection in the mirror with disbelief, not seeing the tall form over his shoulder. He stared into his heterochromatic eyes , trying to see anything underneath that could help, when there was a soft knock on his door. He held his breath, taking in his altered appearance before padding back into the carpet of his room just as the door opened a crack.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Mom’s voice was still a whisper, as if in doubt Jack was awake. He shook his head, thankful the lights were dim and concealing the odd eye color. Mom nodded. “Okay, well, dinner is almost ready. You hungry?” Jack nodded again, his stomach twisting uncomfortably now that it was emptier than it already was. Mom nodded too, looking him over carefully. “Okay, just come out in five.” She stepped out again, leaving the door cracked. Jack left the lights off, feeling overheated and tugged the sweater over his head before discarding it on the bed.

“What do I do now,” He sighed, his voice returning to normal. “I’m …I’m going albino.”

“Do nothing.” Pitch responded, whether Jack was asking the air or not.

“You really aren’t being helpful anymore. You saved a kid today, that’s about as good as a boogeyman gets.” Other than a certain heaviness going through the air of his room, there was no response. “Seriously, everyone will notice this.”

“Will they?” the response was low, echoing to his left. He instinctively turned in that direction, expecting the towering form to be there. “An interesting experiment. If no one notices the change, it must be true.”

“What? T-true?” He swallowed, cursing the shake in his voice. “That I’m—I’m turning into this?” The silence was an answer enough. “It’s kind of hard for them to not see this!”

“Jack, dinner!” Mom called, barely heard from outside the door. He frowned and hoped she hadn’t heard his not-so one-sided conversation. Jack glared at Pitch, even as the being was a foot taller than him and much more menacing in the dark, they seemed at an impasse.

“We’d get over this ‘hating-each-other-but-continuing-to-talk’ phase if you helped me a bit more.” Jack straightened his shirt. “If we can’t find out about the e-mails yet, fine. Someone has to know about how this staff you stole is changing me.” Jack took a deep inhale, steadying his breathing. Added anxiety wouldn’t make his waking mood better. “I just want the rest of my weekend, boogeyman and paranormal free, and once my problems are back to my English class, I’ll gladly run off into the world hunting down tooth fairies.”

Pitch stared down through him again, appearing annoyed (though that was normal). Jack’s glare lessened. He was tired, exhausted, stronger words that he couldn’t think of with his head buzzing. His previously content phase in front of the mirror was gone with this new revelation. Pitch’s sneer sank away at whatever look came over Jack’s face, before he turned back to the window.

“Go then. Sunday at nightfall, if we have no word from the Jack-o-Lantern we will go again.”

“What if we do get word?”

“That depends, doesn’t it?”

“Jack?” Mom called through the door again. Pitch disappeared in a blink, and once Jack registered he was gone Jack turned out the door into the lit hallway. He walked to the dinner table where the small family sat, staring at him strangely.

“Sorry.” He didn’t give an excuse as he took his seat. Emma gave a weak smile, her face not as bright as it usually was. Leftovers of turkey and stuffing, though mom took her time preparing everything so it was practically fresh off the stove like yesterday. Jack helped himself to a glass of milk, picking at a few pieces of turkey to pile onto his plate. His stomach gurgled again, suggesting he start slowly. Silverware clinked on ceramic plates and teeth, otherwise leaving the house completely silent. However Jack tried to find it unsettling and abnormal, he appreciated it. The excitement of the day had to be washed away somehow. Soon enough Jack was satisfied with the calories refilling his gut. He collected plates and washed them instead, shuddering at the hot water running over his cool fingers. It was nearly burning him and he couldn’t care less. When he wiped his hands and turned, Emma was propped up on the chair behind him.

“Hey,” She said, her voice raspy but still young and light as usual. It pained Jack to even have the slightest indication she’d been crying.

“Hey…” He didn’t look her in the eye.

“Do you wanna listen to some more music? We got the sheets for Christmas.” She lowered her voice as if shy. Jack watched her curiously, before letting his smile come back to his face.

“Sure. Lay on your rug watching the ceiling like before?” Jack knew his sister’s butterfly rug’s texture and practically felt the soft yarn on his neck and feet. They often spent their bad days laying on it, counting cracks in the ceiling with soft music playing. Words weren’t always spoken, they weren’t needed.

“I’d like that,” she nodded. Jack did too, taking her hand and helping her to hop off the chair unnecessarily. He found himself still holding her hand as they entered her room, her fingers flicking the dial to dim the lights but not leave them in complete darkness. Jack dropped onto the floor, the room the same configuration it had always been. Emma tapped a few buttons on her computer, bringing it down to the floor next to the rug as soft bells and flutes played very wintry tunes. Jack propped up onto his elbow to watch the video that went with the music, simplistic collages and slideshows of snow and the holiday season.

“Jack?” Emma nearly whispered just at the end of the first song. He looked down, seeing Emma laying next to him and staring up at him with wide hazel eyes and furrowed brows. He gulped but tilted his head for her to go on. “Is what mom said true?”

Jack practically saw double, fearing his stomach would lurch again. Surprisingly, with only tightness in his throat, he nodded. Emma’s frown only deepened as she turned onto her side, facing the computer screen. Jack could faintly see her reflection across the smooth surface. “Will you tell me?”

“Why, if you know now?”

“I want you to tell me.” She looked up at him with a familiar guise of a pout. Jack’s lips quivered, trying to force a smile and failing. Emma noticed, her face sinking. “Please?”  Jack relented.

“Okay. That’s fair.” He lay back down onto his side, removing the pressure on his elbow. Emma started to turn, eyes wide. Jack stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, before carefully wrapping his arm around her and resting his chin on her head. It was how he’d help her through nightmares as a kid, before he knew what caused them aside from silly imaginations. Jack’s mom had held him the same way when he had nightmares for very different reasons. Emma didn’t move, looking to the computer screen where their minute reflections were.

“So, I was about eight. Mom was pregnant with you, dad wasn’t around. You know that, right?” Emma nodded, her hair becoming displaced under Jack’s chin. “Right. Well, they have that street fair downtown during the fall. Where you really like the mini sugar doughnuts.”

“They’re good,” she whined, patting the back of his hand as if scolding. Jack chuckled.

“They are. But we were having a good time, me getting tugged around so I didn’t run off into trouble.”

“You, trouble, no way.”

“Shush,” Jack didn’t mean to sound stern, but Emma practically stopped breathing as he did. He sighed, holding her tighter to his chest. “Mom went and got lunch, I waited at the table. I talked with this older guy. He asked what kind of rides I liked, what I was getting for lunch, that kind of stuff. He offered to get me ice cream, so I followed him. It wasn’t far away from mom, there were just a lot of people.”

Jack wondered if Emma would give the “don’t talk to strangers” schpeel but didn’t. He figured she’d heard it enough today let alone want to preach it. “So I went with him. We were just talking about school and those sorts of things. He was leading me by my wrist and I heard mom shout. When I said it was lunch time he just pulled harder and tried to leave. Some guys got him thank God. I just,” He sighed, burying his nose in his sister’s scalp, uncomfortable or not. “It sounds dumb but it’s something I just can’t shake. That not everyone is a good person and they take advantage of friendly people. So I just, I just stopped talking to anyone just in case they did the same. “

Emma didn’t respond, making Jack sigh once more. “I’m sorry. I just panicked. I would never forgive myself if that happened. I already can’t forgive myself for it happening all that time ago.” Jack’s fingers carded through his sister’s hair, more to keep himself busy than entertain her. They were silent for several moments before Jack lifted his head, looking down over her. “Em?”

Emma lifted a hand and ran it over her face. Jack frowned and loosened his grip on her, not realizing how tightly he’d been holding her. “I’m sorry. I was stupid.” She whispered, Jack only hearing it as she had lifted her chin from her chest.

“It isn’t your fault,” Jack rubbed her arms as the song changed. “I just worry. Way more than I probably should.”

“I should’ve tried to get him off, I’m not helpless like that. If you hadn’t caught up when you had…” Jack’s arms wrapped around her again.

“It’s not your fault, and it never will be. You’re a great kid, Em.” He murmured into her hair as Emma gave weak, suppressed sobs. Jack frowned, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat and knot in his gut. He simply held her, laying on the butterfly yarn rug with music too quiet to determine the words. The room got darker even with the dim overhead light, the last traces of sun falling steadily outside. Emma’s breathing became even and no sharp intakes of breaths came between the quiet tune. Jack’s eyes felt heavy, threatening to close and not let go of his sister in favor of another nap.

“Thanks, Jack.” Emma said, her voice quiet from disuse for who knows how long. Jack nodded, carefully slipping his arms off of her shoulders and allowed her to roll over, giving a weak stretch. Jack cracked his neck, wincing at the motion. The floor wasn't the best choice, even with the nice rug.

“Do you uh, need anything?” Jack propped himself up on his elbows as Emma dropped down onto her back, running hands through thoroughly-messed hair. She shook her head but gave a smile, looking over at Jack shortly after. Her eyes were glistening even after her recent cry.

“I’m okay, dork. You’re about to fall asleep."

“Yeah, pretty close.” He let a grin cross his face too, mood lifting as his sister returned to normal. “You need to sleep too, for the record. I’m pretty sure mom had some big family funday planned for tomorrow.”

“You think?” Emma’s voice dropped, her teeth biting her bottom lip. Jack frowned at the implication that their fun would be cancelled because of the shitty adventure of Friday.

“Probably. It’ll be good. Besides, I leave Sunday. We should do something together.” He smiled back over at her, pushing himself onto his knees. His shoulders creaked slightly and the rug had left some marks on his palm where he’d held himself up at one point. Emma nodded, shuffling over and turning the music on her laptop off.

“Yeah. And when you come back for Christmas we need to go outside.”

“Well, yeah.” Jack smiled. Emma rose to her feet, putting the computer back onto her small desk. Jack got up as well, teetering slightly from the numbness in his limbs and the fuzzy feeling in his head. “That’s a given, and a promise.”

“Good.” She nodded, clicking a few keys on the keyboard. “Now go to bed.”

“Bossy, yes ma’am. You too.” Jack ruffled her hair, her hands swatting at him. Jack chuckled, stepping away and towards the door. He nearly stumbled into the doorway as tiny arms wrapped around his middle.

“Love you,” Emma said, hugging him gently. Jack bit at his bottom lip, leaning over her to give her a return hug.

“Love you too. Sweet dreams.” His eyes glanced up to the window involuntarily. _I mean it, too._ She nods into his chest, stepping back and shutting down her computer, doubtful. Jack sighs but leaves the room, shutting her door behind him. A hand goes through his hair, tugging at the roots he knows are stained silver. _Today sucks._ He stepped down the darkened hallway into his room, the furniture indistinguishable in the shadows. Jack didn’t bother with the light, simply shuffling back to his unkempt bed.  A shudder shot up his spine as a tendril of darkness slithered over his foot as it skittered under the bed skirt.

“Pitch,” he said mid-drop onto the mattress. He felt more than saw the spirit make his entrance, unsure if this was more worrisome. Getting used to an old-as-dirt spirit was one thing, but learning to judge where they were was something else entirely. If anything it had Jack thinking he was much more in touch with the spirits now that he was…changing. “I mean it. Leave Emma alone.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you could mean.” The older spirit scoffed, feigning indifference. Jack rolled his mismatched eyes, a hand moving to cover them and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve had enough bullshit today, thanks.” He groaned. “I might as well go find that cloud and make sure the Sandman beats your ass if you give her nightmares.”

“Oh, please.” Even with his eyes partially covered, he could sense the spirit taking his long strides across the room. “Giving her nightmares now would be opportune, and she’d be one of my few believers. And in a few years she can be a miserable student that never got over some foolish—“

An audible clap of noise shot through the room, Jack’s eyes opening just before the noise. He jumped out of bed, adrenaline all of a sudden pumping through his veins. Pitch groaned, holding himself up against the back wall of his room. The front of his robe was tinged with blue and white bursts of frost, the shadows sneaking off from its surface to escape the chill. Jack unclenched his fists as his eyes widened.

“Oh god,” he swallowed. Pitch stood, brushing the frost off of himself, completely over being thrown back by the bolt of winter. “I’m sor—“ Jack stopped again, unclenching and clenching his hands a few times. “No, actually I’m not.” He shook his head, letting out a harsh clouded breath.

“Apology accepted,” Pitch barked a laugh. “A little cold snap can’t hurt me, brat. You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“On the plus side, you don’t know what I’m doing either.” Jack pointed, though Pitch’s face remained stoic. “…thanks for what you did in the mall, but I’m serious. You only hang around me because I can see you, and that I’m pretty fucked up in the head. Give me all the nightmares you want, you can’t do much worse anyways.” He leveled his shoulders, feeling as though he had to chisel stone to make himself relax. “But Emma is left alone. I don’t want…that.”

The Nightmare King stepped away from the wall, moonlight picking up each individual strand of shadow or sand in his cloak. Approaching Jack often never lost that touch of fear he felt, but he assumed that was normal. He was fear embodied. Jack would always be afraid of him. Pitch smiled at this, eyes sparking with mirth. “Being brave is foolhardy when you’re already so broken.”

“I know, I’m broken.” He frowned, his voice practically disappearing before it passed through his lips. “I said I’m not leaving you until this thing is solved, and you’re still sticking around. So fracture what’s left of me, if you even can.” Jack dared, dropping back onto the mattress. Pitch’s eyes widened, irises shifting from golden sands to mercury. Jack waited for the inevitable cold sandpaper grip of a nightmare to shave away at his mind, but it never came. Glancing up he saw the boogeyman where he was before, hands at his side tensely. Every once in a while his knuckles would flex or his fingers could unclench and play invisible piano keys. Pitch was still looking at where Jack sat, dissecting him.

“Very well. Your dreams for hers.” His posture turned regal once more. Jack nodded a few times, steeling himself. “Come Sunday, you best be able to function. We have a manhunt to go on, after all.”

“Right,” Jack couldn’t stop the curl of his lips in amusement. He wanted this over with as soon as possible. Somehow knowing one spirit was on his side was comforting, no matter how disconcerting he was.

“Odd, though,” Pitch continued, holding his chin on his fist in a mockery of thought. “Handing yourself over to fear when you were already well within its grasp for a little girl. You’re old enough to never stop believing in me, as well.”

“Don’t inflate your ego too much.” Jack joked, knowing he wouldn’t get much chance after this night. Pitch would keep to his word and likely enjoy each moment of making Jack incoherent and vacant.

“And I’ve come to see what caused your belief in me in the first place.” Jack’s eyes shot up to the towering being at that, blue and brown eyes wide.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean? I can see you because of that poem, right?”

“Perhaps, but I knew you as a child, too.” His grinned, showing off jagged teeth. “No one ever told you that it wasn’t your fault, and never would be. They told you to be afraid of anything that could hurt you. Odd how you can preach but not learn from it yourself.”

Cold flooded through Jack’s system, more than it had when the cold snap unfurled and more than when the wind carried him far away. Gooseflesh rose all along his arms and at the back of his neck, and he could practically feel his pupils dilate. That couldn’t be true. There wasn’t some simple explanation for his…fear of people, he’d call it. The chills ran up and gripped at his scalp, clawing at his hair and tugging. His eyes snapped shut, the burning sensation familiarizing itself behind his eyelids once more. He faintly felt the world spin as he dropped back into bed, brow furrowed and limbs stiff.

“Good night, Jack Frost.” The inhuman voice rang clear in his head, a mix of Pitch’s sultry baritone and thousands of soulless whispers. With a sigh, he let sleep take him again, cold and sharp limbs dragging him down into a pit filled with nightmares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is holding a contest in celebration of getting 100 followers on Tumblr!   
> www.frostsicle.tumblr.com
> 
> It also gives notices of some delays and all updates. Track The Boogeyman's Lullaby tag :>


	17. Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weekend comes to a close, and Jack and Pitch go to see the Jack-O-Lantern.

Jack woke up at five in the morning, sweat practically frozen to his skin and only breaking off as he threw himself off his bed. Standing on his feet made him teeter, brain humming in background noise. He wasn’t sure where to go, why he was up, if he actually was. Letting out a long sigh he put together the pieces of a memory-less nightmare, a deal with the devil so to speak, and took careful steps into the bathroom. He kicked the door shut with his food, fingers fumbling with the light switch and scaring away the shadows. He grimaced as he swore he saw the little gremlins and whatnot jumping down the drain and wisping out from under the door.

Shower, he reminds himself. He peels off his t-shirt, not having bothered with pajamas after the day’s proceedings. He’s thankful he didn’t collapse in his sweatshirt, or it would have been sweat through and Jack wasn’t sure his body could even handle perspiring any more. The rest of his clothes were tugged off as he ran the water. He wastes no time stepping in, letting out a loud hiss as steam pours off of him from the water temperature. He paws at the dial, turning it lower than his usual setting. After all the sweating in his sleep a cold shower would do him good, which was proven as he let out a relaxed sigh at the change.

When Jack finally turned off the water he frowned as his wrist didn’t have to turn very far to stop the flow of water. He anticipated a shiver from the cold water, but simply stepped out and dried himself. Fully awake this early in the morning wasn’t something he wanted to be a regular thing. But he supposed with the nightmares he’d be getting, it may be regular. He shook his hair out, catching the flashes of white at his roots in the mirror. No, it was definitely something that he didn’t want to be a regular thing. Jack exited the bathroom, only wrapping a towel around himself as he fumbled in the early morning light for a clean set of clothes. Despite the throbbing in his head and sleepiness causing him to stagger, the room seemed empty. Actually empty, not housing anything that could disappear at will.

His laptop booted up before Jack felt completely awake, returning from the kitchen with a bottle of water as quietly as he could. Saturdays was mom’s designated day off for her storybooks, unless she was behind on a deadline. Jack wondered how she could have such serious deadlines telling kid’s fairytales, but knew mom put her all into her work. Changing his thoughts he got his internet to load up, faster as he was the only one on the router at this time. He was optimistic thinking anyone would be online, instead catching up on his Youtube subscriptions he’d missed.

Within hours he heard mom’s bedroom door open, lights being flicked on and water running. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time, realizing he’d spent the last few hours engrossed in the quietness of the morning internet. He realized what it was like to have a Tumblr blog and have no notes after leaving for a while. It was oddly comforting that he really wasn’t as invested as he’d thought at the start of the month. When he heard Emma’s bedroom door creak open he decided he might as well start his day. He stood and headed into the hallway, oddly comforted by the cold floor beneath the pads of his feet.

“Morning, Jack. You’re up early.” Mom smiled as he entered the kitchen. Jack smiled in return, hoping his exhaustion wasn’t obvious.

“Morning, I don’t even know what that is on a weekend.” He took an apple from its spot on the counter, tossing it in his palm. Emma giggled from where she was seated at the table with a bowl of Lucky Charms. He smiled down at her before taking a seat as well, twisting the stem off of his apple.

“Getting a boyfriend?” Emma smiled, watching as he did. Jack rolled his eyes.

“Unlike middle school girls, I just don’t want to eat an apple stem.” He twisted it again, feeling it loosen before accidently tugging slightly, breaking it off mid-spin. He didn’t tell Emma he’d subconsciously done the alphabet while twisting it. That was definitely something Middle school had taught him, even if algebra was a lost cause. _Either J or K_ , he thought as he flicked the stem across the countertop. He took a bite, breaking the waxy skin of the apple and chewing, his mouth no longer dry from waking up. J or K…Jack, for one, Jack Candles? He chewed spitefully as he remembered that in a day he’d be seeing him once again, probably angrily as he didn’t give word about finding the e-mailer. There was Jacie, too, and his brow knitted together involuntarily. She was rather nice to him, though they hadn’t texted or anything since the snowball war, not counting the mass Thanksgiving text.  He couldn’t really think of anyone with K in their name, aside from his mom. That’d be good enough. He wondered if he had to clear things up with her as he had with Emma.

He took more bites out of his apple until all but the core remained, done with the silly name game.

“What did you want to do today, Em?” He asked as he tossed the core away, his sister slurping up the last of her milk.

“Huh?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I leave tomorrow, so we need to hang out today. Whatever you wanna do we can do.” He smiled a little, swallowing a yawn. Emma’s face brightened and she held her chin between tiny fingers, appearing in thought.

“Can we play the Wii?” She looked over at the TV. Jack nodded and stood. “I’ll demolish you.”

“Only because you spam Pit’s B attack. Bring it on.”

 

By eleven at night the Wii’s games were exhausted from use, the kitchen ransacked of its snacks, and an entire iTunes playlist run through. Jack and Emma were seated on the couch watching 21 Jump Street, Jack’s urge to watch it fueled by gif sets on Tumblr that morning. While the car chase ensued, mom came out from her bedroom in her pajamas, having retired to bed an hour ago.

“Okay guys, turn it down. Jack, you still need to pack up your things. I’m taking you back around noon, alright?”

“Okay.” Jack nodded, looking away from the screen for a moment. He gave a smile across the living room to her. “Good night.”

“Night. Just finish the movie and head to bed.” She smiled in return and disappeared down the hall again. Emma looked over and called a good night as well before her eyes glued back onto the television.

The movie ended and Emma sluggishly moved herself off the couch, yawning loudly. Jack chuckled, but had been struggling to keep his eyes open himself.

“Thanks Jack.”

“No problem. It was a good day.” He smiled, standing up from the couch with a stretch. His muscles ached from the fitful sleep the night before.

“Yeah, I had fun.” She smiled and yawned again. Jack chuckled, making a shooing motion. She stuck her tongue out at him as he turned off the television and living room lamp, following her down the hall. “I’ll see you before you leave, right?”

“Unless you were planning on going somewhere before noon, or sleep in like a pile.” She gave his arm a shove but chuckled.

“Oh yeah, right. Sleep well.”

“You too.” He ruffled her already mussed hair from a day of laying on the couch. She entered her room and shut the door, making the hallway completely dark again. Jack sighed, turning and entering his room, flicking his wrist to turn on the light immediately. The room still looked empty, but Jack’s vision was impaired already by his tiredness. He tugged his suitcase out from the closet, holding his breath as though something was going to leap out at him. He threw his sets of clothing into the bag haphazardly, not paying attention to how neatly everything was placed. By the time all his clothes were in place it was just after midnight, and he hadn’t begun packing up his electronics and anything he’d want to take to school with him for the winter. With a sigh he tugged his pajamas back on, leaving the suitcase open and in a mess to finish stuffing full of objects in the morning. He didn’t bother setting an alarm, figuring he’d be woken up by something more startling.

He turned off the light again, instantly burying himself in his sheets and pillow. His ears hummed, the anxiety trying to keep him awake while the rest of his mind begged him to succumb to sleep. With a sigh he forced his muscles to relax. He’d get more sleep the sooner he went to bed, hoping the nightmare would be forgotten in the morning.

Jack was surprised when a knock on the door woke him up, forcing his head off of the pillow. He groaned, head spinning for a moment.

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s about ten. Get your things all put together.” Mom called through the wooden door before disappearing again. Jack huffed, running his hand through his hair. His eyes burned, wanting to close once more and the headache started to surface shortly. Perhaps the Boogeyman had completely left him alone and wasn’t around to send the gut-wrenching nightmares Jack freshly feared. Slowly he forced his elbows underneath him, cracking his neck and sliding out from under the rumpled sheets. He still felt too warm, and his limbs were sore as if he’d tossed a lot in his sleep. He wouldn’t be surprised.

He rolled out of bed, slouched as another yawn came from his throat. He nearly kicked the corner of his suitcase, grumbling. He knelt by it and reorganized things, packing up his computer once he was finished. Once things were ready he pulled the suitcase down the hallway, propping it on the wall near the door. He slipped into the kitchen, wordlessly getting himself some toast and taking bites between more yawns. He made himself comfortable while mom completed her morning tasks, including making sure Emma was awake at a good time. At eleven-thirty mom shut off her work computer, standing. Jack glanced over and stood as well, stretching.

“I think I’m good to go if you are,” He said, voice still a bit raspy.

“Okay, you want to just do lunch when we get to town?”

“Sure.” Jack shrugged, not thinking about food. Emma looked over the back of the couch before climbing over it towards the table.

“You’re leaving already?” She frowned. Jack gave a sideways smile.

“We’re both ready to go, ya know? Sooner we go, the sooner mom comes back and makes lunch for your lazy butt.” Emma purses her lips in response.

“I can cook.”

“I know, but we’re still gonna head out.” He ruffles her hair, his hands being swatted away.

“Okay.” She resigned, looking up at him and then over to mom. “Do good at school.” She added more as an afterthought, but her tone hitching as an order. Jack chuckled and pulled her into a one-armed hug.

“I will if you do.”

“I’ll text you to make sure you’re actually doing that.” She stated again, arms wrapping around his waist. Jack shrugged, figuring his phone wasn’t getting any use anyways.

“If you must.”

“I do,” she huffed, squeezing him tightly. “You’d forget to do it like a dummy.”

“Right,” he chuckled, arm sneaking down and ruffling her hair again. She slapped his arms away while Jack laughed harder, but the hug had ended. “If we keep bantering I’ll never get out the door.”

“Yep, we should hit the road.” Mom reappeared with her purse and car keys. Jack nodded, stepping around to the wall and getting his bag.

“See ya, Em.”

“See you.” She waved, knowing another hug would just keep them bantering longer. He gave her a smile, checking his pockets for his keys and phone before rolling the suitcase out into the driveway. Once stored away in the trunk he slipped into the passenger seat, eyes closing as mom backed out of the driveway. Within seconds they refused to open again, taking the risk that nightmares couldn’t find him with daylight shining through the car windows.

When mom nudged him awake they were outside a diner. The warm lunch made it to his stomach but didn’t make it to his extremities, still feeling chilly but not uncomfortable. The parking lot outside of the dorm wasn’t entirely a welcome sight, the area practically vacant as students were trying to stay away for as long as they could. He pushed the door open and hauled himself out, muscles finally waking up as he tuggeded the case out of the trunk.

“We’ll figure out when I need to come get you for Christmas break, okay?” Mom stood by the trunk as Jack pushed it closed. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know the last day of classes.”

“Okay,” She nodded, holding an arm out. Jack smiled and stepped into the hug, feeling her shiver against him from the cold wind that blew past them. “We’ll talk.”

“Sure will. Love you.”

“Love you too. You better get unpacking before you take another nap.” She smiled, ruffling his hair. Jack flinched, suddenly reminded of the color gracing his roots that only he could see. Mom pulled back hesitantly, looking him over. He rubbed his arms, feigning a chill. He doubted the cold could affect him much anymore.

“Yeah, I better. Thanks.”

“No problem.” She smiled, letting him go with a kiss on the forehead. He grinned stupidly, feeling childish enough at falling asleep in a car ride. He walked down the asphalt towards the door, fumbling his keys in his hands. “Jack?”

“Yeah?” He looked back over his shoulder, mom holding her door open but looking back at him.

“If you need anything, or someone to talk to, you know you can call me, right? Anything at all.” Jack swallowed hard, even from the distance seeing sincerity and concern from her. The weekend was still a fresh and painful reminder of his past, however hard he wanted to forget and move on. He wasn’t sure if he’d adjust to school socialization any better than he used to.

“I know, mom. I’ll call if I need something.”

“Anything,” she nodded. Jack nodded in return and they finally broke eye contact, mom slipping back into her car and Jack inserting a key into the lock.

When he got back to his room he realized he’d never miss the smell of a stagnant dorm room. He dropped the suitcase, unzipping it. With a sigh he kicked off his shoes, getting the feeling back in his toes after sitting in the car for the last couple hours. Once done he turned and pulled the obnoxious closet door open with a creak. The darkness oozed out and Jack gave an involuntary shudder. Monsters still lived in closets, it seemed. The black mass moved across the carpet, sluggish from the dim light casting through the cheap curtains and moving to surround Jack.

“Fuck off, I’m unpacking.” He sighed, flipping open the top of the suitcase covering his properly folded clothes. A tendril of shadow wrapped around his wrist, giving it a tug towards the closet. He stumbled on his heels, falling forwards onto his knees. “Hey!”

“The only thing you need to unpack was never packed at all,” the deep voice called, forcing Jack to look back into the closet. His eyes widened as he saw the crook of the staff appear from the darkness, held by a pale gray hand. Something inside him fumed. He wanted to grab the staff and let nothing aside from his skin touch it again. Pitch wasn’t supposed to hold that staff, he’d take it or break it or worse. He didn’t think twice when his hands lashed out and grabbed the twined twigs of the staff. Another harsh tug brought him into the closet, not colliding with the hard carpet or wooden shelves, instead with a pile of leaves. His heart was beating erratically and he felt the dark screams echoing in the back of his mind from the transport. “Oh good, you’re here right on time.”

“Smartass,” Jack grunted, pushing himself up and forcing the staff out from Pitch’s fingers. The older spirit rolled his eyes and walked away towards the familiar looking barn, leaving Jack to stand up on his own. Jack followed him, holding the staff across his body and letting his fingers scrape the wood. He wondered if he should have taken the staff from his room and in the car with him. Unlikely, since it’s get his family’s attention. Not that the most noticeable change was seen. Jack gave a shiver as his feet crunched in the leaves and damp soil, the chill shooting up his spine wonderfully. It’d be better if it was snow, but the dew that had likely been frost before was welcome.

He hopped to catch up with the wayward cast of shadows to the barn, where Pitch rang the bell over the loft as he had before. The bell rang, and whether from the dampness or the violent way Pitch seemed to ring it, the sound echoed through the fields. The wind seemed to carry it everywhere before wrapping itself around Jack again, giving whispers. He shivered, closing his eyes to hear them better, and when he did he heard the rustling of hay.

“Ugh…” Followed the noise of hay. Jack looked up and stepped back to see more of the overhead window to the hayloft. A hand appeared first, sharp nails appearing chipped before an arm, then the head peering out. Jack Candles, orange hair still draped over the one side of his face looked down, hollow eyes half-lidded and sprigs of grass all over his person. “It’s too early, pals. This is my off month.” As he spoke Jack watched as a lollipop stick fell from his mouth. Was this a Halloween Hangover?

“We need a word, Lantern.” Pitch hissed, still hidden under the entrance of the barn. The trickster spirit’s eyes widened, settling on Jack before roving down to see the edge of darkness cloaking Pitch.

“Oh fine,” he gave an exaggerated sigh, pulling himself over the edge of the loft and dropped down into the grass next to Jack. He ran a hand through his half-head of hair and did the same to his plaid button-up shirt, left unbuttoned in his sleep. Sprigs fell off of him in plentiful lumps until he looked pristine as ever, which was still a step above rumpled. “What’s the word?”

“That’s what we should ask you, precisely.” Pitch growled, unblinking eyes boring into the Halloween sprite. Jack Candles frowned, his bottom lip sticking out slightly until he turned to Jack. The college student crossed his arms, brow furrowed. It wasn’t that he was angry at Candles, he was angry that he hadn’t kept his word. They didn’t have word, and the hunt for whoever was giving people fear instead of the boogeyman was becoming a cold case. Candles’ frown disappeared as he saw the equal disappointment on Jack’s face, before he looked back to his sandaled feet.

“I did send word, ya know. Didn’t ya find it? Don’t get mad at me for that, Jacky.” Jack’s frown disappeared too, his eyebrows rising.

“You did send word?” Candles looked up again, eyes searching Jack’s.

“Yeah, ferret. Like, Wednesday?” Jack chose to ignore the ferret comment, even as Candles lifted his chin to see the roots of Jack’s hair. At least someone had noticed.

“That was days ago, how long does it take to arrive?” He questioned, moving himself a few steps back as Candles moved to tug a few strands of his hair. Candles shrugged, instead moving his outstretched hand to the back of his neck.

“I woulda thought it’d make it that night. Awful sorry, Frosty. I really didn’t have a lot for you anyway.”

“Did you find anything, though?” Jack pressed, gripping his staff. Pitch stayed silent but was wondering the same thing, by the way the shadows waved at Jack’s question.

“Well, Toothy was saying that the lil’uns were sleeping a bit strangely even with Sandy’s dream sand. Most of them are older too, like the ones that are losing their last teeth.” Candles bounced on his heels, waking himself up with the motions. “I don’t think she said much more than that.”

“Was there anything else? Like, a computer or letter or something weird?”

“I’m not a bedroom creeper like those guys,” the jack-o-lantern thumbed over to where Pitch was still hovering. “You’d have to ask. They didn’t seem to know of any new spirits, either. North was too busy for me to get him to ask the Moon.” Jack pretended he knew what the spirit was talking about. Pitch shook his head, exasperation written on his features.

“Okay, well, thanks Jack.”

“No biggie. Wish I’d have more for ya. Why’re you looking anyways? Boogey here is all hoggy about nightmares but why’s it bother you?”

“It’s a long story, really. But call me curious.” He gave a lopsided grin. Candles chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go hit the hay.” He waved his hands in a jazzy fashion, a shit-eating grin on his face. Jack rolled his eyes but let out a laugh.

“Yeah, enjoy your vacation and tummy aches.”

“Aw, noooo…” Candles cringed at the word, rubbing his exposed stomach. “You’d think I’d learn, being old as dirt. Seeya.” He waved again and kicked off the pillars of fence along the side of the barn, throwing himself into the loft. Jack heard a satisfying ‘whump’ and saw a puff of dust and grain shoot out of the loft.

“Well, this was pointless.” Pitch’s footsteps didn’t disturb the leaves below him. Jack sighed in agreement.

“There has to be something. What if those kids were on the computer and started getting those weird dreams like me?”

“You forget, the days before I revealed myself I had a minor pull on your nightmares given your past.”

“Yeah, I got that. But have you been sending kids nightmares when you’re stalking me? On Tuesday night before the message?” Pitch’s silence was answer enough. “You’ve been with me, not around the world doing your thing. You want your visits personal so they see you and believe in you, right?”

Pitch frowned, hands behind his back but Jack guessed his fists were clenched.

“Since when are you observant? I’ve noticed that people aren’t your strong suit.” He quirked his lips up in a smirk. Jack nodded.

“I’m pretty bad with people but I haven’t spent as much time with them as I have with you. I’m figuring out how you tick, remember? Not scary anymore.” Pitch growled and Jack smiled. “Yeah, the growls. You sound like a puppy.”

Pitch lunged at him then, and a whisper of the wind threw Jack into the air out of his grasp. The boogeyman glared up at him, Jack balancing his weight properly.

“I want to look around. I bet I can find these little tooth fairies or Sandy and ask about the other night.” He stood in the air, the winds changing around him to point him in separate directions. _This way, over here, that way._

“Jack—” He heard below him, but the wind was louder. It tugged at him, going through his fingers and hair. He inhaled the cold air before being hurled forwards, spiraling over the roof of the barn. The weather vane chicken at the peak spun and creaked from age, rust being shaken free. Jack gripped the staff tighter as he rode a wind, frost particles falling and melting as they hit the grass below. It was just past noon, after all, or perhaps earlier given the time zone, the sun still reigning. No, this place wasn’t quite ready for snow, but soon.

 

Minutes or hours later, still riding a wind, he realized that the time was indeed a factor. Tooth Fairies came while children slept, and dreams couldn’t be delivered if the same wasn’t true. He was being taken south: further south than he’d ever wanted to go. He closed his eyes and let the ocean pass underneath him, skipping over the currents of the Pacific. The sun set fast as he moved until it was the dead of the night, lights of metropolises in the east nearly blinding the closer he got. He let out a harsh breath: it wasn’t cold here yet either, more humid. He shook his head and lowered himself to the outskirts of a city, touching down in one of the few unpopulated areas. Just because his hair wasn’t noticeable didn’t mean that he was. With a frown he wondered how long it’d take for that to happen.

The thought was disturbed as he heard the tiny whistling of wind as something shot through it. He looked up, eyes searching the power line streaked skies. A faint draft nudged him back into an alleyway of two multi-story buildings. He looked up again, looking for the source of the tiny chimes in the air. His eyes widened as a blur of color phased through a window above him, shooting off into the sky. At his excitement the wind gave him new footing, hurtling him up onto the small gust the thing was on. “Hey!” He lifted his feet to dodge hitting a jut of a chimney top. The colorful thing looked back, wings a flurry of colors the same as the crest of feathers over its head. It chirped melodiously and rolled its large eyes, flitting off again. Jack frowned and flew after it once more. “No, wait! I want to talk!”

The bird-like thing ignored him, flying across the city in serpentine patterns. Jack was hot on its tiny talons, the wind changing direction with the slightest forethought. Jack flew down to a residence quickly, not even paying mind to the few souls that wandered the streets. The creature looked over its shoulder before phasing once more through a window. Jack gasped before slamming into the wall by the glass, crumpling onto the wooden porch. He clutched the staff close to his person, eyes darting side to side. A few short chirps—a giggle—sounded through the window and made Jack look over, the colorful hummingbird smiling somehow with its beak.

“I just wanted to talk!” He frowned, rubbing his shoulder that took the brunt of the collision. The creature waved a tiny hand(?) at him before disappearing into the room. Jack pushed himself up, peering through the window. A small boy, no older than fifteen, was bundled up in blankets, fast asleep. Jack squinted, seeing his shoulders shake slightly as the tiny fairy dug underneath a pillow to reclaim a lost tooth and set a shiny coin down. Honestly he wondered how the tiny things got around the world and how they carried all the things. His frown deepened as he saw an outdated laptop across the room on a desk, left open but screen black. “I’m being paranoid, lots of kids have computers. God, I’m such an idiot.” He sat back on the balls of his feet, still looking into the room as the fairy tucked away the tooth in some sort of satchel.

His blinked and sighed. He was across the world on a school night, alone, visibly flying through the sky like a freak. For once he just wanted to forgo the crazy lengths he wanted to go to find some anonymous idiot that might be scaring kids. It wasn’t bothering him anymore; he proved he can live with nightmares. It’d be like it was when he was younger: he’d get used to them and just forget them. Pitch would forget him. Even Candles and the little bird that flew back out the window into the sky without a passing jeer would forget him. He got back onto his feet, using the staff as a crutch to gain his footing properly.

The room he was looking into lit up. With a gasp he spun around, back to the wall of the building in hopes of not being seen. A second went by and nothing happened, no sound behind made in the home. He peered back around into the room. The overhead lights hadn’t switched on, but the rectangle across the room had. The laptop was on, glowing a deep blue with characters Jack didn’t recognize on it. If the symbol of a letter wasn’t a dead giveaway enough, the number “1” was.

“One new message,” He swallowed. His instincts were to creep over and look—but that wasn’t feasible. Instead dread crept up his spine and he backed up, the wind going under his feet where steps weren’t. He tore his eyes away, gripping the staff and drumming his fingers on it intermittently. With another thought he lifted up into the air, higher above, until he could see the outlines of roofs. More importantly, the dashes of colors going into the houses.

There had to be a connection, and if he had to watch the fairies all night and see if any e-mails came, he’d do it. 


	18. Indigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's investigation either proves useful, or inconclusive. Either way, it's interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup guys guess who pulled this out of the docs and finished the stupid thing.

“Jack.” The voice interrupted his thoughts. Jack held up his right hand in a silencing gesture, knowing the dark spirit was somewhere on that side. After a moment’s pause, he pointed in front of him. He was perched, toes gripping the windowsill of a child’s bedroom. It wasn’t the first room he’d watched, but this one was important. He followed plenty of the tiny fairies to rooms. Most were uneventful, but flawlessly, it seemed that the ones with computers inside lit up as the child shook in their sleep. This one was no exception: a young girl with midnight black hair and plain looking room was absolutely thrashing in her sleep. Jack’s heart ached: but he couldn’t break in like this. The fairy had just whizzed out the window, at this point they left Jack alone. “What is—“

“Did you send her a nightmare?” Jack interrupted again, not tearing his two-toned eyes away from the bedroom. Any second now, it had to. There was silence to his side. “What about the last four kids I’ve seen? You like making personal visits, even if these guys are far away from home you don’t have much cause to send them nightmares at the same time.” 

“Not much cause for them to lose stupid teeth on the same night.”

“There’s billions of kids and I’ve seen way too many of those bird things to believe that there could be a day where someone didn’t knock out a tooth.” Jack grumbled but sat up straight, finger hitting the window in his quickness to point. “See!” Across the room, another computer screen lit up from sleep mode, a message appearing. “That’s what, the fifth one. Every one of them is having a nightmare. The tooth fairy leaves, and then a message shows up. Flawlessly. Five times!” He whipped his head around, seeing Pitch leaning down to look in through the window. “That can’t be coincidence, right?” His brows furrowed as he studied the Fear king more closely. Pitch wasn’t looking at Jack, instead looking through the window. He was nearly bowing himself over Jack to see in properly, face close to the glass and eyes narrowed gold.

The computer screen dimmed before either party said another word. Jack glanced back over to the Nightmare King, about to make a comment when he saw him sink into the ground. Jack’s eyes darted until he saw the towering mass of shadow reappear in the bedroom of the child, his throat nearly closing. “Pitch!” He placed his hand on the window, some frost coiling out to immediately melt. Pitch ignored him, stepping around to the mattress the child writhed on in terror. 

With a frown, he struggled to get his fingers to force the window open. It didn’t give way, clearly locked on the other side. Wind tickled his hair, murmuring his thoughts that he was stuck outside, he couldn’t move like the fairies and boogeyman. He looked back up as Pitch stopped pacing around the room, his head turning in the direction of the computer for half a second before focusing on the child again. The dark sand swirled into a tornado from the corners of the room, dancing around the bed and the spirit. Jack’s protests were just pantomime through the window, the Nightmare king disregarding his presence. The sand unfurled from the sides of the mat the girl slept atop, dancing around her but never once making contact. Pitch seemed to tilt his head, almost birdlike, before lifting a hand.

Wisps came out from in between his own patterns of sand, shimmering a more indigo color instead of the violet-black of the boogeyman. The smoke-like indigo coiled around his lengthy fingers, to his palm and up his wrist, revealing more of his grey-tone skin. With that, the girl had began resting easier, he brow still furrowed likely from the presence of the sand. Jack frowned as he was still ignored, Pitch looking over his hand as if it had sprouted leaves. With a tap of his fingers on the window, more frost sparking out of it, his attention was gained. The boogeyman sank into the floor, reappearing on the porch nearly where he’d disappeared.

“What the hell was that about?” Jack scowled. Pitch was still observing his hand idly, eventually letting it fall to his sides were his shadow cloak covered it. 

“I haven’t the slightest. Something was definitely giving night terrors.” He watched Jack harshly, his eyes moving to the sky as the fairies buzzed by. Intrigue flickered across his eyes as they turned silver. Jack’s lips twitched up into a smile.

“Well, I can show you some of the other kids that did that. You can stop the night terrors and give them your brand of nightmare instead.” Pitch lowered his eyes to Jack again, a similar grin spreading over his face.

“Certainly. I can’t allow them to indulge in some off-brand fear.”

“Heavens no, it’s your duty to rid them of that…whatever that was.” Jack waved a hand, wind lifting him off of the porch. The Nightmare King watched as he lifted off, Jack pointing down another street. “C’mon, there was one over there.” He wind carried him, tiny flurries of snow falling to melt on the concrete. Jack got down the street in no time, letting his feet touch down quietly by another window. The young boy was in a similar state as the girl, and a handful of other kids Jack had seen. He looked over his shoulder to see where Pitch had gotten to, when the shadow lifted in the bedroom once again.

With a sigh, he waited outside the barrier of the wooden walls of the houses. When Pitch copied what he’d done before he looked at Jack, a signal to keep moving. He flew around the town to different houses as he remembered where they were over the past few hours. When the Nightmare King had successfully distributed all his nightmares, Jack hopped off the porch of the last home.

“That’s all I’ve seen.” 

“There could very well be more.” Pitch said, assimilating somewhere to his left. Jack peeked over his shoulder to see the older spirit making sand dance in his fingertips, the strange hue of the new sand sparkling under his gaze. Jack spun around and stepped closer, squinting to definitely see something was different than the sand he had grown used to plaguing him at night.

“So that doesn’t look like your stuff at all.”

“No.” Pitch vocalized but rolled his eyes at calling his trade ‘stuff’. 

“But you don’t know what it is. What can give night terrors but like, kind of like your powers?” Jack crossed his arms. Pitch shot another glare in his direction.

“Nothing can.”

“Obviously, something can.” Jack remarked smartly, raising an eyebrow. “Whatever it is might have to do with creepy e-mail guy, considering he’s left me alone. He could be trying to get those kids to believe in you too.”

“How generous of them. You’re a regular detective now, are you?” Pitch moved off the porch, appearing more like he was sliding down the steps and not walking. Jack scowled, shifting on his feet and swinging the staff just slightly.

“I’m just saying, I don’t hear you having any brighter ideas.” Jack scoffed. A burst of light shot in front of the pair, impacting on a house just down the street. Golden light rained away from the impact site, scattering over the streets and converging again. Jack’s eyes widened, turning his head and ducking in time to have another fly past them—was that a manta ray? An eyebrow rose as the giant golden ray turned in the sky, another stream of shimmer following it. Parts of the wings broke off into star-like shapes and—

An elbow jabbed into his forearm, causing him to stumble down the street. Glowering over, Jack saw Pitch, scythe in hand, glaring back.

“Bright enough, Jack?” 

“Is that—“

“Who else?” The Nightmare King hissed, and with a whistle, whinnies followed. The mares poured out from under patios and overhangs, bounding up into the sky. Jack swore he blinked, and then everything just clashed. It was like the last night he’d left his home, over Thanksgiving, where horses and creatures from gold battled back and forth. Sandman was around, then, no doubt alerted to the nightmares…that Jack helped Pitch spread. Shit. A horse sprinted past, nearly knocking him off his feet once again, the wind catching him. 

Jack swatted as another quick burst of color flew in front of his face. He snarled, gripping the staff tightly as he focused on the street-now-arena. A ribbon of golden shot out at a mare, in motion of a whip. A flick of his wrist and a flurry of ice spilt out from the end of his crook, breaking the ribbon to pieces. Was he seriously helping Pitch, again? Probably the lack of sleep. He hadn’t felt rested since this whole ordeal started, especially not pledging to his own insomnia to make sure Emma was well-rested. More jeers of horses echoed down the empty streets, alerting no one’s ears, and Jack went airborne. 

The block was coated in combat. Like before, sands danced and twirled but didn’t mix, like they were magnetically repelled off each other. The golden bursts seemed to form whatever whimsical shapes they pleased, where the black sands stayed equine. The wind carried him loftily overhead, getting a prime view out of the way of stray particles spiraling into the sky like fireworks. Another golden disc flew up, like a flying saucer from outer space returning to the atmosphere. It glowed, and took a deep dive, spiraling back down, closer—shit, right towards him. With an inhale of air into his lungs the wind seemed to agree, lifting him up over the projectile. He tripped over his bare feet in the wind, feeling weightless, on his back in time to see the disc rerouting back towards him again. His mismatched eyes widened, the air feeling still around him in equal surprise, yet screaming commands into his deaf ears. The golden bulb grew, opening like a maw of a gaping fish, moving to swallow him whole—

A sick crackling filled the space around Jack, the air around him feeling electric and thin all at once. The shimmering fish nearly melted before him, sand crumbling and losing its shimmer, going tan and pale. Parts of it coated Jack, the rest falling lifeless down to earth. Jack gasped, brushing himself off, limbs working again. Looking down below, his eyes met Pitch’s, dark as the sky around him, indigo colored sand whirling around him and forming another harpoon. Jesus, that look in his eyes. Even for someone so inhuman it was unnatural. The whiny of a horse cause Jack to turn in spot once more, shooting across the street. 

He wasn’t sure what to do. Did he help Pitch, again? Yet he hadn’t seen Sandy, or any more of those fairy things. He wasn’t part of their quarrels or disagreements or whatever spiritual fairytales held. Or was he, now? The crook rattled in his grip, as if the wind merged with the aging wood and shook it in earnest. His feet touched down on a rooftop before he could even think, eyes wide and watching the dance of something far older than he was down on the quiet streets. 

The wind whistled, and brought his attention up. The giant cloud he’d seen before came and perched above him, nearly blocking the moon beginning its descent. They both seemed to look down on him, curious and judging at once. Both hands gripped the staff’s handle as one of the tiny, colorful fairies flickered around the edge of the cloud. He raised an eyebrow. Before he could see more, the green and blue blur dashed in front of his nose, squeaking in some language he couldn’t know. 

“Hello to you too.” He frowned as the tiny being put its miniature fingers on its hips. It squeaked more, pointing upwards to the cloud. His eyes followed the small finger, another eyebrow rising. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He went to look back at the creature and got a sharp pinch on his nose. “Hey!” He barked, watching the bug scurry away. Before he knew it the wind carried him up, following the zigzag patterns of the creature like a wizard after a snitch. Catching the upwind he flew forwards, stretching out like a tiger grasping at prey, clapping his hands around the bird. “Ha!” Jack scoffed. His elbows hit fluff, sending him toppling over ass first until he was flat on his back, staring to the sky. A grainy taste filled his mouth, making him sputter and wipe his mouth. Sand?

Jack rolled onto his knees, seeing the tiny bird thing escape his hands. It shook its head and squawked more, taunting. He spit again, still feeling the awful texture on his tongue. “Yeah, very funny. I’m faster than you!” He stuck his tongue out back. The bird’s big baby doll eyes rolled at the notion. With another scoff, Jack looked around for his staff, instantly feeling lost without it in his hands. Just then, his eyes settled on his landing spot. The sandy cloud, golden and emitting its own light, carried his weight above the sleeping city. Across the mass lay his staff, and if it could be annoyed at being flung so dramatically it probably would be. Jack scooched towards it, not bothering to get onto his feet. The pillow of sand was surprisingly soft, unlike his dorm bed now that the nightmares had saturated into the springs. Once he picked up the staff the familiar chill shot down his spine, like a swallow of a slurpee, just short of a brain freeze. The whinny of mares brought his shut eyes open, crawling back to the side of the cloud.

The bird zipped around his ears, tweeting some nonsense he didn’t understand. He waved a hand, brushing the hummingbird away from his ears. Jack yelped as the thing latched onto a strand of his hair, pulling him back towards the middle of the cloud. He fell over, uncomfortably twisting his hips over the heels of his bare feet and clutching the back of his skull. “What the—“ His voice stops as wind rushes past his face, a wave of indigo sand shooting up like an eruption just where he knelt. What looked like golden dragonflies scurried around the warpath, several losing their wings and crumbling. Dust in the wind, Jack supplied with a hum. The indigo wisp seemed to hiss and tear at the wind as it went by, though if Jack could just hear that from the wind himself he couldn’t tell. Still, it made the hairs on his neck stiffen. 

A jingling caught his attention. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing the round man with wild hair landing on the cloud. Jack’s eyes widened as Sandy waved, the sand in his fingers coming off of him. Slowly, Jack frowned and glared at the spirit. 

“You nearly made me crack my head open!” He hissed. Sandy jumped physically, more jingles going off as he shook his head and put his hands up. “Well, you did! You put me to sleep and I fell!” 

The Sandman frowned, propping his tiny chin on stubby fingers, in thought. More shapes flew over his head in quick succession, too fast for Jack to make sense out of any of them. He swore he saw more snowflakes and a few of those horses, but simply furrowed his brows. “Right, great conversation. I need to get home.” He pushed himself back onto his feet, crook in hand. God, who knows what time it was back home. Would he be missed? He hardly knew where he was let alone the time. Best not to risk it. Maybe with Pitch busy with whatever it was he did he could catch a few hours. 

The wind picked him up a few inches from the cloud, Jack’s eyes darting around for the direction him came from. The wind started to pull, whispering their directions. Another sharp pull on a strand of his hair, then his ear, made him turn back. The little fairy thing was squealing again. “You don’t speak English! Knock it off.” He growled. That was the sleep deprivation, definitely. The jingles of the Sandman didn’t even make him look over, uninterested in his miming of words. The tiny bug bird flew in his face, fuchsia eyes narrowed as it tried again. With a little shake of its beaked head, she zoomed down, and back up by the time Jack could blink. A tiny ‘achoo!’ came from its mouth, making Jack blink repeatedly. 

“What—“ Within seconds he felt the prickling in the back of his eyes, as well as the drooping eyelids. “Shit.” He mumbled, or thought he did. His tongue felt numb already. He sighed, exhaustion encasing him like a sandpaper blanket, and he didn’t even feel himself hit the cloud before he fell asleep.


	19. Toothiana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack gets noticed, and not much else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pecking at this and really think it's dull and achieves nothing but it'll work out eventually right at least there's a bit of something to look forward to evEN THO I'M HALFWAY THROUGH THIS GOBMESS

Floating was a sensation that Jack had grown used to. The feeling where he was not quite asleep, not dreaming, but weightless and comfortable, limbs hardly able to move even if he tried. Now the wind made the feeling more alive—something lucid and controllable and terrifying in its ability to just let him freefall. Jack could sleep on the wind, he figured, if it took him to some far-off place. The chilly jet streams wouldn’t bother him, not anymore, when everything was a lovely cool temperature. Feeling every waver in the wind, like a roller coaster that moves your bones and cradles you safely in its harness.

 

It was much like that now—lids heavy, body floating adrift like a buoy in the sea. Dreams were strange. He could feel the beginnings of a thought crafting some plaything, but it was disappear and he’d have the urge to rub at his eyes. _Can’t though, arms too heavy._ Why would he bother trying to wake up from a peaceful sleep?

 _I don’t remember falling asleep._ Jack made an attempt to furrow his brow, something Pitch had perfected in him just by doing it so often. Pitch—the sleepy city, the indigo sand, and then the Sandman fizzled back into his memory. Snowflakes danced in the corners of his vision, falling slowly down and down further into the recesses of REM. Jack grit his teeth. Missing something, important, maybe, why couldn’t he remember falling asleep? Where was Pitch?

He took a deep breath and forced his eyes open, lifting the shades. His eyes exploded with light, making him blink several more times to adjust. The snowflakes melted, and the paralysis encasing his body lifted. His eyes were no longer heavy—well, still a bit. He hadn’t slept fully in days. After his eyes stopped being blinded he could finally see around himself. Above him were golden pillars and tops like cake frosting. What was that famous building called? He couldn’t remember, but it was regal and foreign. And warm, ungodly so. Jack lifted a hand to his face, wiping the damp sweat from his brow. Watching, he frowned immediately at seeing the glimmering sand sift through his fingers and hair, puffing out into adorable shapes of rabbits around him. The noise of chirps and metal dings like bells sounded, advising him to turn around on his blanket of sand.

God, it was a palace alright. Blue and green and violet dashes of color blurred to-and-fro. A wall near where he rested was adorned with paintings or mosaics, he couldn’t tell, the bricks themselves seeming to glow with life. A pool of water was beneath him and his blanket, crystal clear and shifting colors of a kaleidoscope of all the things flying above it, between the clear blue sky.

“Oh shit…” Jack rasped, rubbing a hand through his hair. The bells and whistles kept going on, paying no attention to his bed of comfort. Speaking of comfort, it was still too damn hot. Jack rolled himself over, off the edge of the cloud and let the wind catch him. Gods, even that was warm, ruffling his hair like a caress. He gently lowered his feet to the spring of water below, sighing in relief as it crystallized easily under his touch. He needed to get out of this circus before it got too hot. Even his frost didn’t touch the edges of the small pool. The wind pulled him up, flying him around a few golden precipices and jewels columns. The buzzing fairies, he could now tell, were converging first at a monstrous wall, gleaming golden spaces like honeycombs, before whirling around to another pointed gazebo above all the others.

Before he could even think of it, the wind took over. A small jet stream formed just with how many of the little birds were flying by, following northern and southerly winds from the central station. Jack found himself practically following in queue with them to the top.

“Two front teeth, in Salt Lake City, at the same time?! Those’ll be good Christmas pictures! Left canine, in Long Beach!” Jack’s jaw dropped as a larger…prettier version of the tiny brats he’d stalked all night flitted back and forth from the miniatures of herself. A few squeaks broke his thoughts as he saw tens of pairs of tiny eyes, and one pair of big fuchsia, staring at him.

“Uh, don’t mind me, work to do.” Jack gave a chuckle, swallowing. The wind seemed to sense his hesitance and started to blow him away like a balloon not being held too tightly. Once he was out of the hood of the gazebo it picked him up quicker. Jesus, the sun was shining bright right there. _Time to go home._

“Jack!” A female voice called. Jack so much as blinked at the name and the petite woman-bird-fairy-thing appeared in front of him. He flinched backwards, watching as she fluttered around him. Well, seems she really had wings too. “Jack, I’m sorry. Sandy said he needed to talk to you.”

“He sure has a nice way of showing it. I gotta get going.” He lifted up again, just to get cut off.

“Wait, Jack. This is important.” For a kind voice and pleasant smile, her tone leveled out and settled in severity. “Come on, I’ll call Sandy and we can work this out. You look…warm.”

“Of course I’m warm, I got thrown in a bag and woke up in…in the tropics! Wearing a sweater.” Jack scoffed, tugging at the neckline of his hoodie. “This has been a weird enough day.” The sounds of a different level of chiming made him look over, off towards the vista-like view over the mountain peak this place must have been put atop. Another golden cloud swooped in, moving along like the sea and its rising peaks. “Great.” Jack muttered. Sandy waved, and while the girl did the same Jack let the wind drop him, the brush of wind making his sweat-slick hair go wild and cool, for a moment anyways. The woman called his name just before his feet touched the grass by the oasis. He dropped onto his ass with a thud, letting snow puff out from his sides, trying to freeze the ground underneath him. Jack schooled a frown onto his face as the sand cloud he previously occupied molded together with the Sandman’s ride, the bright fairy following him.

“Alright, here’s the important talk.” Jack started, as the two spirits said nothing. “I’m warm, I’m probably missing all my stupid classes right now. You threw me into a bag,” he pointed at Sandy. “This is after you previously put me to sleep so I fell and almost cracked my head open. And I don’t even know who you are. But considering I bugged those little things all night, I’m guessing you’re the Tooth Fairy. And I’m Santa Claus, and the Boogeyman is somewhere laughing his ass off.” Jack crossed his arms. “How close am I?”

“I’m Toothiana,” the fairy in question waved, shrugging her tiny shoulders sheepishly. “So, that part is right.”

Sandman made a few jingling bell noises as pictures of a bag and z’s fluttered by, leaving him to shaking his head. “Sandy says that…head cracking thing was an accident. But the bag was the only way he could get someone to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I don’t speak fluent Pictionary.” Jack murmured.

“North is usually the one throwing people in sacks…but he’s busy, since it’s nearly holiday season.” Toothiana gives another weak shrug to Jack’s raised eyebrow. “Nickolas St. North. He’s, well, don’t call him Santa to his face.”

“Of course not.” Jack murmured, running a hand across the back of his neck to get the drip of sweat away. He submerged his hand in the lukewarm water by his ankles. It was better than nothing.

“But, Jack,” Tooth fluttered closer, as if tentative to touch a startled animal. Jack’s brows furrowed further until she folded her hands on floating knees. “You’re, well, we didn’t know you were…back.”

“Back, huh?”  Jack muttered again, splashing more water up his ankles and wiping the back of his neck.

“Well, before…before it was quite bad. We didn’t know you could still be Jack Frost. And Sandy saw you with Pitch!”

“Right. Thing is, I’m not Jack Frost.” Jack waved a hand, especially when sand shot up from Sandy’s cranium. “I’m not. It’s some weird mistake. Whoever the other guy is still has his job or powers, and I’m trying to get through school.”

“School?” Tooth screws her lips into a grimace. “But how can that be? You’re, how can anyone see you?”

“How can I see any of you guys? I couldn’t see Pitch at first.”

“Jack, Pitch is dangerous. We can figure out what you say is going on but you’ll need to talk to North, and Manny.” Tooth finally did float over, at some point, and set her small hands on Jack’s shoulders. When did his sweater get so damp? He splashed more water on his face, hoping for the crackle of ice and being disappointed again.

“I think I’m done with talking to fairy tales for the night. Once I finish my finals I’ll schedule an appointment with the dentist.” He frowned at Tooth. It was too hot in this bungalow of hers. “And write a letter to Santa in the meantime. Later.” He lifted himself up on the wind, shuddering at the unpleasant warm draft it brought around him, as if it evaporated all the water he just poured on himself. He made it up to the first of several disc-shaped platforms before Tooth and Sandy flashed in front of him again.

“I’m serious. Pitch is trouble. He preys on the children and makes them stop believing in us. If he’s following you, it could be even worse. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“Probably haven’t. Had quite a bit of trouble going around trying to find the right spook.” He waved the staff again. Tooth seemed to have something flash over her eyes, in understanding, or putting pieces together, before it was gone.

“At least visit North. You can stay with him until this is sorted. Manny will explain! You don’t need to prolong it.”

“Whoever this Manny guy is can call me like a normal person then. I am not Jack Frost!” Jack snapped at them both, color draining from their faces. He felt satisfied for a long moment, catching his heaving breaths. An explosion of heat appeared behind him, causing his eyelids to droop, the room growing darker. How can a platform up in the air on an open mountaintop get darker? He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing the monstrous form of Pitch painted along the wall of the palace.

“Pitch!” Tooth flitted up higher into the air, curled into what must be some about-to-claw-your-eyes-out stance. Sandy looked steaming, tendrils of gold appearing around his portly frame like steam from his ears.

“Yes, hello little pigeon. Sanderson.” The low voice echoed around spiraling walls, where one ended to show the jungle outside it would hop to the adjacent pillar. Jack felt his head spin with the surround sound sensation. “I believe you should be letting the sprite leave now. He gets quite fiery.”

Jack made to move and scold the age-old spirit, but found his mouth too dry. By the time he’d readied himself, Tooth talked over him. “You’re behind this, aren’t you!”

“Well, I can’t take all the credit. Most of it, yes.” The shadows shrunk and let Pitch appear, walking over the curved roof of one of the orbs like it was nothing. “But the problem is being taken care of without help from you precious Guardians.”

“Taken care of? How is this possible if Winter—”

“That is none of my concern.” Pitch interrupted, vanishing into another spot of darkness as one of Sandy’s marine animals swooped by to take a swipe at him. Jack took a step back as the eel, or whatever it was, shimmied back to Sandy by Jack’s side. In a blur, Tooth flew up to where Pitch reappeared, on another side of a column, fists at the ready as the shadow shifted just out of her reach, morphing through the honeycomb shape. They became masses of color, like the floor was a jumble of marbley-goldy-purple patterns. Things seemed to explode into motion, leaving the blur behind them like a photograph.

Jack felt his fingers slip down the staff, feeling the harsh wood-on-skin motion. The crook fell to the marble disc with a clatter, Jack flailing to catch it. He tried to flail, anyways, with the staff falling his pillar of being-able-to-stand was gone. Since when was he standing, anyway, and when did the wind disappear? His knees hit the floor hard, some sickening sound shooting through his limbs as the rest of him hit the ground too. Oh, it was much chillier down here. Nice.

“Jack?” He heard Tooth call, somehow underwater, very murky and blurry, even though his eyes were shut. It was too sweltering. It didn’t feel this hot when he first arrived, now he just felt like his skin was melting off. His fingers numbly dragged at the hem of his hoodie, the rest of his limbs not cooperating. Someone spoke before more warmth was pressed to his side. Jack swung an arm out, trying to push himself away from the furnace, though it stayed constant, like it was walking him through a microwave. A screaming, dark microwave. Jack felt like shaking, tearing out his hair, drowning himself in something to stop the noise and heat—

 

He sputtered into a mouthful of snow—oh gods. It was perfect. What started as a scramble to sit himself upright turned into a full body flop. Jack groaned. Yes, drowning was good. Drown in snow. His fingers started to prickle with the chill and his shoulders forced his hips to roll him onto his back. Light shone onto his face, not that he bothered opening his eyes for it, not when he was focused on the numbing chill encasing him. His arms started making snow angel movements and a giggle escaped him. Oh it was perfect, a lovely dream—

When did he even fall asleep? His eyes opened and he sat up straight, snow sloshing around him. His eyes adjusted to the light painfully, settling on the dark blur kneeling in front of him, just shy of where his bare feet were. Really, the scary tall Nightmare King, kneeling so his butt wouldn’t touch the snow and perched like a pissed cat should have been more amusing.

“Where—”

“You fainted in the Tooth Palace. I wanted out of there anyway.”

“Fainted? Why would I,” Jack stopped himself, already seeing the spirit going to interrupt him.

“She’s located in the East, down towards the Equator. It’s no surprise even with the low amount of power you’ve taken thus far you can’t handle such a change in temperature and could not control your own climate enough to sustain the heat.”

“So you’re basically saying I control ice but not enough to keep myself cool.”

“Seems so.”

“For once I actually would have preferred you dumbing it down for me.” Jack ran a hand through his hair, letting the melting snow wipe away the sweat. He sighed in relief again, dropping onto his back in the indented snow. “So, where?”

“A forest in Alaska. Antarctica may be too cold for your human body to tolerate. It’s quite a disgustingly lovely day up here.” Pitch grimaced, audible just by his tone alone, causing Jack to smile.

“How’d you find me, then?”

“It wasn’t difficult. Follow the Sandman, find the sack.”

“Still mad about that.” The thought caused him to yawn.

“Excellent. The guardians are indeed a nuisance.” Pitch brushed the cloak over his knees and rose up, acquiring his statue-like form again. “Now they will bother you with dull details about children and Christmas spirit and whatever other nonsense. We have more important things to do.”

“Right, computer guy. Shouldn’t we have asked them about new…things?” Jack paused and asked, sitting up in his snow pile and gesturing to Pitch himself. Already Jack seemed to be feeling better, and not wearing shoes was becoming detrimental.

“As said, pointless. It’s obvious they didn’t even know you were around.”

“I’m not a spirit, remember? Kind of don’t count.” Jack pushed himself up onto his feet, shivering as the snow compressed between his toes. Don’t leave home without shoes, he reminded himself.

“Yes—well, stop trying to be a special snowflake!” Pitch snarled, hands clenched into fists. “This whole situation makes no sense, so do not seek help from twits in attempts to make it make sense!”

“What about this other Jack Frost?” Jack mumbled, crossing his arms and Pitch paced divots into the snow.

“No, we are not focusing on your powers. We find this nightmare stealer, you lose the staff, you return to being normal and boring.”

“And finding this guy is working great on our own.”

“It is, as I have found a way to do so.” Jack looked up from where he watched his toes turn pink to see Pitch had stopped his meandering. His boney fingers twirled and a dark indigo orb of that sand from the night fluttered by at his whim, dissipating into the sky. “I believe he left us his own Sandman bread crumb trail.”

Jack could feel his eyes widening in realization, as quickly as he saw that demonic grin appear over the Nightmare King’s face, as though just noticing his own cleverness.

“You can do that?” Pitch scoffed. Though the additional seconds it took for him to continue speaking made Jack raise his eyebrow.

“Of course. I converted the Sandman’s sand to my own purposes; this shall be child’s play.” He let the orb dissipate between his fingers. “Without any children playing being involved.”

“Heavens, can’t have that.” Jack stretched out his muscles, eyes scanning the snow floor. He wandered around his snow angel of slush and lifted the wooden crook from where it was nearly buried with snow. Jack gave a yawn, seeing the sunny sky above him. Things could be worse than missing class with Chalmers. “Well as fun as that sounds, you can figure it out and I have to get to class.”

“Not up for a bit of fun, Jack?” The spirit taunted, almost whimsical as he floated over the snow, barely leaving a footprint. Jack rolled his eyes.

“I am the epitome of fun, when I’ve actually gotten some sleep and education in me. You, Halloween decoration of the nineties, do not dictate fun.” Pitch gave his classic scowl, even as Jack twirled the staff in his hands. “This is the one time I think I could use the boring, normal kid going to school to achieve nothing for a day.”

“How dull.” Pitch murmured, continuing to walk towards the pine trees. “Plenty of inklings would love such a shift from the normality.”

“They don’t get haunted by bedbugs and have a stick that makes them turn albino.” Jack smiled as Pitch reached the shadows, back practically arched like a pissed off cat and hissing much the same. “Uh-huh. I didn’t sleep, and you got some creepy hint, just take me back. You can start your sleuthing when I’m in school.” Jack followed him towards the shadows the trees hardly cast, the season changing differently further north. Without thinking he stretched a hand out towards Pitch, like offering a hand shake. Pitch on the other hand made a face that nearly made Jack withdraw. With a frown Jack slumped. He’d offered his hand to the Boogeyman, without any caution?

More surprising, before he could fully pull away, Pitch took hold on his hand. He fumbled as though he meant to grab maliciously, or around his wrist, but just gave a pull further into the shadows and letting the screaming portals send them off.


	20. Spook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets his day of normality, and his night of troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a chapter that took months to get through. It was difficult because I wanted to ease into things a bit slower but I've dragged this out long enough. Right into it, then!

Jack’s foot caught itself in the laces of his shoes. The shoes he’d left in the closet, because naturally that was the convenient door for Pitch to exit them out of. With a squawk Jack hopped one-legged out of the closet, barely containing him and yet enough for the shadows to let him flounder for a few more steps. The shoe fell back to the carpet, now opening up into the still too-small college dorm room. Jack stopped the stumble before his knees hit the end of his bed, feet balanced back on the floor. A ‘brr’ left his mouth, even though he’d spent the last who-knows-how-long in some Alaskan outback. The floor was cold and the window to his room was tilted open, letting in the freezing breeze. Sun filtered in around the clouds, heavy with water. The sound of a buzzing vibrated the room. Jack’s brows furrowed as he stared into the room.

“Aw, hell.” He padded a few strides over to his bedside table, where his phone rattled against the old wood. His alarm had been going off for…jesus, nearly twenty minutes. “Double hell.” He flung open the drawer on the side table, slipping a pair of socks on his frigid feet. At least he knew where his shoes were. He ran a hand through his hair—good enough—before lifting up his backpack. If he hurried he could make it to class. Chalmers would not be forgiving even after the long weekend. It felt like Thanksgiving and the accursed Black Friday were months back in time, not only a few days. Brushing aside the memories of the past, Jack stuffed the silenced phone and keys into his sweater pocket, rushing out the door.

 

Jack only realized how much he missed sleep when he wanted to catch up with it under the teacher’s watchful eyes. Spending the past couple of weeks getting little-to-no sleep seemed normal by now— more exciting and freakish things happening to occupy the time. The professor’s voice, while freakish, was not exciting. She may as well be whispering sweet nothings to lull her students to sleep so she could feed on their life blood. The thought held Jack’s attention for a few more sweet seconds, his eyes opening from their long blink.

“I hope you all did the reading over this weekend. Read the next three chapters before next class time. And I want a two page analysis on them right away.” Jack widened his eyes and held back the groan back in his throat. He gazed up at the clock on the wall, thanking whatever fairies that stalked him that time passed faster when he was near unconscious. He really thought about taking back the comment on wanting to be a normal college student again. Anything to not have to do homework, instead he could track down nightmares. The bell chimed through the school halls, the only thing stirring Jack to straighten his spine and shove his books into his bag.

“Jack, a moment.” Chalmers’ voice apparently had no time limit. The Overland swallowed, nodding and getting up to his feet while the few other students lingered while collecting their things. Nosey kids, it seemed. “I didn’t receive your paper before break.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Jack shrugged, gripping his backpack tight against one shoulder.

“Sorry will hardly help. Missing two of those papers lowers your grade to half. I grade those heavily, like it says in the syllabus. If you can’t write a good two page paper when I ask, I can’t pass you.” She said this all so calmly, likely from having to say it often enough. Jack had to resist rolling his eyes. Even the bookworm English majors next to him complained it was impossible to get anything above a C on those papers.

“I know. It just slipped my mind.”

“Good. I look forward to your paper by Wednesday, then. Even if you pull an all-nighter, passing this class should be your first order of business.”

Jack couldn’t resist a scoff, hearing it mimicked from the corner of her desk covered in shadow. “I have been to school before, and I have other classes. I try my best on no sleep already.” He grumbled. Chalmers’ eyebrows rose behind her thick-rimmed and strapped glasses. “Maybe if you didn’t expect perfect papers more people would be in this stupid major anyway, or maybe if you actually had teacher friends you’d know they’re all obsessed with giving unrealistic hours to do homework and that their class is gospel.”

“Mr. Overland!”

“Sorry, I have another class to go to.” Jack didn’t even turn to look, stepping out of the classroom with a huff. The cold shadow followed him, the halls nearly vacant with the time passed. “Oh, Jesus.” Jack groaned. Now he really wasn’t passing that class. Maybe it wasn’t too late to drop out from it.

“Temper, temper.” A silken voice said to his side.

“That’s the lack of sleep, causing the temper.” Jack shot back, knowing the invisible spirit was actually deeming him worthy to follow. “I thought you were out searching for clues.”

“I decided to take a break, I’ve had an eventful afternoon as well. I thought you were looking forward to being a boring human again?”

“Very funny.” Jack muttered once more.

“That woman does make a terrific nightmare. I thought you were exaggerating in your head. Turns out you can get something right.”

“Not in the mood, Boogeyman.” Jack finally turned his head in the slightest, previously having kept his eyes ahead of him. The smirk latched onto the statuesque figure faltered, going back to a flat line of his lips. Jack raised an eyebrow, daring the spirit to comment further, only to see him sink into the floor. Sighing, Jack went to move again when the puddle of darkness to his side didn’t disappear, but slithered around him to the door of the nearest classroom. Eyes following, then feet, Jack looked into the classroom, his breath catching as he caught his reflection. Two now ice-blue irises stared back, his bangs brown only at the tips and white from his roots sneaking down, like crawling frost.

“I suggest keeping the sass under control for the moment, Jack Frost.” He heard Pitch’s voice through his mind, like an itch too far into his ear to scratch. He ran another hand through the hair just to see more strands bleached than he recalled. Thank God no one else seemed to notice the change. The door to the library opened up down the hall, signaling people, and Jack scurried away from the door and out the entrance to the building, taking in a deep breath of crisp air as the door opened. Tension left him like piles of snow from an overhanging branch.

Because it was snowing. Large, fluffy flakes gently touching down in traces of white over the brown grass and sidewalks. A shame it had all melted over the past week. The place was more tolerable with the ice particles covering the dead ground. The walk to his next class eased his mind of trivial college needs, thoughts only on snow.

By the time next class ended Jack felt more like he was a cat than an insomniac. He stretched lazily, felt like he had a doofy grin over his face, and walked casually back towards the dorm. The snowflakes had slowed down, though still falling and leaving a larger level of dusting over the ground.

“Afternoon, Jack!” He schooled his face back to expressionless, or at least he tried. Jacie ran up to his side, bright smile on her face and rosy cheeks. She’d donned a knitted scarf and mittens, like during their snowball fight. “Isn’t it lovely out?”

“I love snow.” Jack blurted. Crap, the smile was back. The weather might as well possess him and carry him off right—a tug at his sleeves and dull giggles greeted him. No, not carry him off. Jacie gave a bit of a shiver at the gust of wind swirling the flakes around them. “At least it waited until after the holiday?”

“As long as it isn’t before Halloween, any snow is good snow.” Jacie agreed. “Means we can have more snowball fights soon.”

“That’ll be worth it, with finals coming up.” Jack shrugged again. He’d hoped the knowledge of approaching finals would abruptly leave his mind and yet there it was. Definitely too late to give his pink slip to Chalmers.

“Yeah.” Jacie smiled. Jack chewed his tongue. Well, that was social enough for a day. His eyes shifted and he took a step back down the sidewalk, towards his dorm and out of the way of another pedestrian. “I’ll text you or something when we go out. I mean if we go out. We like, my roommates and everyone.”

“Sure thing.” Jack nodded, risking a glance back over. She looked cold, ears turning red from the chill as well. “See you then.” He turned back towards the path, following it to the ramshackle brick building that housed his accommodations. He gave a short wave, a jerky motion of his arm if anything, still sensing the girl by him. His feline don’t-give-a-fuck pace was gone, legs jerky and tired once more, hurrying towards the building. That still wasn’t any better. Why did he want to go back to school again? Right, the spirits trying to interrogate him and make him lose sleep. The Alaskan wilderness felt a lot more inviting right about now. No one around to bug him, no homework to worry about. No wifi, though, a major downside, though most of the games were downloaded and were fine with single-player…

That’s what he needed, time alone. His feet carried him up the steps to his door, slipping inside without the now-common disruption of being thrown into the room or nearest dark corner. Glancing around Jack found the room was very much empty. The walls didn’t move with shadows, the air just filled with dust and not sand from a recent attack, and the condescending spirit was nowhere to be seen, or even sensed. Somehow the silence, while strange, was comforting. He dropped the backpack to the floor by his dresser. With a spin he fell into his computer chair, sighing along with the plastic supports under his weight.

The computer turned on, cold with disuse. Usually used until it overheated, it was odd to see that even when away, nothing had changed. He didn’t miss it, exactly, right now he just craved a way out from reality. Things had become too real by this point. He booted up Steam and tapped away at the controls, getting used to them again, and let them occupy his time and mind.

 

Stretching his arms above his head felt like the first movement in centuries. He’d forgotten the stiffness that accosted his shoulders and neck, doing so much as cracking his fingers above him. His chair leans back, creaking once more, and nothing threatened to knock him over backwards. He felt a yawn cross his lips before they opened up into a yawn.  A glance to the corner of his screen said it was nearing eight p.m. and he’d forgotten about dinner. Shrugging a shoulder he checked the Tumblr, sighing at the new animations and fan theories on his dash and the dwindling amass of followers. He’d been too busy to bother with a queue. It hardly mattered, what would he post about? Becoming Jack Frost was not a good conversation piece.

He flicked through the other websites he followed, even too far behind on his Youtube subscriptions to care. His e-mail had Black Friday bargains he’d never opened or deleted. He clicked on his school e-mail, only realizing he’d come to have a reaction to the off-white paneling of the screen once it blinked before him. Notes for Algebra, rescheduling a test date, no class on this day. He wrote them down on his notepad, only keeping his eyes on the relative information. He’d all but forgotten about the e-mails by now. His real nightmares took precedence, and yet his main purpose was to find the guy in the first place. What if there was a way to find out more about him? It could be a hint, and Pitch could find him and end it just like that. No more nightmares or Jack Frost.

He skimmed through the pages, surprised to be disappointed at seeing no unmarked messages flooding his mail. The quest had left his mind because it had been so fruitless. No way of finding him, or even connecting the character to the weird sand and e-mails plaguing children around the world. Everything had spiraled into some other deep seeded cause for revenge with these Guardians. He ran a hand back through his hair. Why should he even bother with this quest any longer? It was only causing himself damage, if the freak powers and sleep loss were any indication. He nearly leapt from his seat at the ping and orange light at the bottom of the screen. He opened it with a breath.

 

**_Long time no chat!_ **

Jack couldn’t stop a smile spread over his face, fingers over the keys ready to compose. It took a few moments.

 

_Yeah no kidding. How was your break?_

**_The usual. Good food, little sisters, loud uncles._ **

****

_I can agree with the majority of that._

**_Yeah, I am the one kid with uncles that talk loud enough to shake the room._ **

****

_Sounds like a roaring time._ Jack envied him somewhere deep in his mind. Myth had said his dad, like Jack’s own, wasn’t in the picture anymore. It’d become common knowledge that his uncles would pay visits to their nephew and niece for the holidays, regardless of the travel expense. Jack’s family was just the three of them and quiet nights in, all news being universally known in the small handful of Overlands.

 

**_What have you been up to?_ **

 

Jack, naturally, scowled immediately. The response of ‘not much’ seemed like such a lie it’d slap anyone in the face. Yet the proper and truthful response of ‘oh, flying around Japan or China, I’m not really sure, but there were tooth fairies and sea pancakes made from sand’ didn’t leave the best taste in his mouth either. Ultimately nothing would be a good answer, and so he stared at the screen, fingers motionless on the keys.  He clicked away to another screen for a few minutes, one hand scratching at his jean-clad thigh. Jack opened the window just as a message came in again.

 

**_Any Boogeyman news since? Just curious._ **

****

Jack expected that shadow to lick at his heels, the cold to shift through the room before being enveloped in that sickening earthly heat. For what could be a poltergeist, the temperature was always two steps over comfortable, especially now with the climate changes his body handled. The spirit didn’t appear, though, the room staying the same stagnant temperature as before the thought.

 

 _Well, hard to say._ He responded instead, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

**_Sounds like a great update. I told you not to leave me in the dark!_ **

****

A voice whispered into the back of Jack’s mind. He remembered what Pitch had said before, about his believers, as well as the other guardians’. Would disclosing that information mean Pitch could visit Myth in his sleep, bringing nightmares? What would that mean about the others, especially since it seemed Myth was already a firm believer in most everything? He chewed on his bottom lip until he tasted copper of chapped lips from the cold.

 

_I don’t really know much about what’s going on. Don’t want to get your hopes up._

**_Come on dude_ **

****

Jack stared at the screen. Jack sighed. He started typing. Everything. It flowed from his fingertips, free from prose he often attempted in his off times. Free from the blatant detachment to what you compose like Chalmers’ papers. It was entirely open, just writing what came to his mind no matter how out of order some events could be. The dreams, the haunting, the Halloween spirit all the way to the tooth fairies and snow, Jack was leaving nothing out. He finally hit enter, sitting back in his chair, and puffed out a cold breath. What in heaven’s name had possessed him to do that?

Minutes passed. Into the tens of minutes before it showed Myth typing. Jack held his breath until he felt his lungs protesting. He shut his off-colored eyes until he heard the notification sound, and kept them that way.

 

_Freak. You’re lying. You’re fucked in the head. How dumb do you think I am? Why would you believe in fairies anyway._

Jack gasped, feeling cold digits grip onto his shoulders and pull. The chair didn’t overturn, surprisingly, but rolled over the rough carpet. His eyes shot open and he gripped the arm rests, feeling the wheels balance awkwardly until the back of the seat hit his dresser. The wooden thud shook his bones and focused his eyes on the figure in front of him. The Nightmare King was tall every day, absolutely towering on his best, but this was another thing entirely. He was all-encompassing, belittling everything below his cloaked feet as shadows lapped at the carpet. Jack couldn’t even resist looking at him like a camera pan, beginning at the feet just next to forgotten textbooks and up his sleek cloak, indigo shards of color dappling up the sharp vee that opened up the being’s chest. Even his skin was darkened more than the pallid grey that Jack knew. The same, though, were those amber eyes, staring intently at the desk as if Jack was a fly swatted away.

Jack pushed himself up, hips feeling twisted as though he had fallen into a sticky spider web. Even knowing that Pitch couldn’t touch the machine, the look he was giving was surely enough to send sparks fly. There was no way he could operate it, but Jack surmised he didn’t need to in order to read a wall of text. Jack took a breath, and found those eyes snapped over to his.

“What good do you think that would serve?” Jack felt his color leave his face. The low rumble of Pitch’s voice was altered, lower in timbre and yet almost trilling, like a mocking child. Jack felt his throat go dry, and lungs evacuate of oxygen as the lord over fear’s teeth peeked out from his lips. Jack had felt the fear that the spirit could project, full force, yet this was different. While before it was like a bullet through the chest, making him cold in his core and burning hot in extremities, this was like ice water was dunked over his head, pumped into his chest, pressed to his teeth. Alaska seemed like summertime. His rewired senses to cold couldn’t even compare.

“Pitch?” He almost didn’t even feel the word come out, lips feeling blue and numb. The spirit made a sound in his throat, whether it was disappointed or amused Jack couldn’t decipher.

“Close,” he rumbled, eyes roaming the room again as though he’d never seen it before. “I don’t like the turn this has taken, boy. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, for fuck’s sake.” Jack managed to breathe for a few seconds. Even with everything he was staring at right now, he was more gob-smacked about the use of the word fuck by the eloquent spirit. “But thanks for spreading the word a bit. Not that I needed your help anymore.” Pitch, well, Jack supposed maybe not, stepped around him, towards the dark closet with rioting shadows prying and chipping away the awful paint.

“What—“ Jack resisted falling to his knees, feeling like a kick was delivered to his gut. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Pitch took the proffered crook from the shrieking shadow things, holding it in his hands more delicately than Jack himself even did. Something inside his chest throbbed, then his head, spiking adrenaline through him. Possessive, he reasoned, but even that couldn’t unfreeze his legs from where he stood. Or rather, he scrambled half a foot forwards before his knees now refused to cooperate, leaving to drag on the sham carpet. The fear king continued, ignoring the dash for the crook. “Won’t do. I don’t really want to deal with another old man after this one.” Pitch, strangely, tilted the crook and tapped it to the side of his skull, another one of those toothy grins that normally looked in place spread across his face. “And I know one good way to kill two annoying birds with one theoretical stone.”

Jack gasped as the chill of fear was washed away by the searing heat latching onto his limbs. His stomach dropped, like a roller coaster over a slope, and his knees cried in agony as he fell onto a hard surface. He gasped another breath, instantly soothed by the too-cold air pulled into his lungs, puffed out in an icy cloud. Outside, apparently, where? He blinked, vision accustomed to the stock white surrounding him. He didn’t recognize this place, covered in snow and bare trees around like a circle. Jack went to push himself up when his fingers sparked with the cold. Ice, he was on ice. With one scope around once more the details crashed back into him as clearly as they had weeks ago. This was the lake from his dreams, and nightmares, always too-cold and lonely. He bones shook with it.

His legs were wobbly as he forced them to carry his weight again. It felt like he’d been stuck in cement for hours. That prickly sensation shot down his spine once more, and he turned around just as his hairs stood on end. His socked feet clung oddly to the frosted ice covering the lake below him, but thankfully he was no longer frozen in place.

“Familiar, this?” Pitch-not-Pitch quipped, leaning against the grayed bark of a tree towards the edges of the lake. “His majesty did a bad, bad thing. For someone old as dirt you’d think he’d have a better idea for keeping a kid around than messing with this lake.”

“Who are you?” Jack barked, voice back now that a reasonable distance was between them. “And what the hell is that supposed to even mean?”

The shadowy figure familiarly would drop down into the ground at his feet and reappear who-knew-where. Unfamiliarly, he crackled like a television screen on the fritz, a mass of black and dark indigo static. Jack turned on his heels, knowing the boogeyman’s tricks like the back of his hand. The wooden crook he wielded was different. Pitch appeared behind Jack and jerked the he wielded staff upwards, clocking Jack in the jaw and overbalancing him onto his ass, skidding. The heel of the staff was pressed against his sternum hard enough that he swore he heard the thunk across the bone.

“I fear you are terrible at listening.” Jack went to snap once more when the staff jabbed him again, back fully against the ice. If he hadn’t braced himself his head would have cracked against the solid lake too. “Why, I’m the Nightmare King, can’t you see? I’m known for getting into messes with the guardians and sprites and everyone hates me!” Another press of the staff made Jack grind his teeth together. “Boo hoo, but—he’s the only one that was on my trail, so it’s easier this way if they take him out of the picture now. Or he WAS the only one, until he thought of bringing my spark into this.” The spirit resorted to mumbling, a mantra of everything going through and only bits of paragraphs caught by Jack, pinned beneath him.

“Spark, huh?” He spoke, fearing he wheezed.

“Spark, spark to the flame, the first link in the chain. Get the boogeyman’s attention, get his nightmares, make them _mine.”_ Now the voice was sickeningly similar to Pitch’s, an inhuman growl at best. “Get rid of the boogeyman, get rid of the believers, get rid of the guardians. More for me. He went about it all wrong all that time ago. They’re all old hack.” Words were spit with such malice Jack swore he saw an animal snapping at him instead of the being.

Jack was still staring at the thing, lips twisted into a rambling grimace, grey hands turning black at the tips even with the white-knuckled grip he had on the crook. Jack raised his hands carefully towards the rod holding him down.

“They just don’t get it, at least you started to get it. Kids don’t have time for fairy tales, but they can believe still, oh yeah, but believe more in what comes from their own generation. Their technology that those fables can’t even reach, that’s what will kill them off. And I’ll still be here. Believed in.”

“Yeah, I get it now.” Jack coughed out a laugh, and just as the Nightmare King’s eyes—dark blue, now—met his own. They were serious and yet full of curiosity, intrigue skating around his irises like the sand at his feet. “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”  He grabbed the staff’s handle. White frost shot like lightning up the handle to the crook, focusing, and firing a bullet of contained snow and ice shards. The spirit shrieked, hands flying off the staff as he hurled a good two feet off the ground and landed with a crack, sliding to the other end of the lake. Wind surged around Jack as if a crowd’s applause, lifting him to his socked feet as he adjusted the hold on the staff. “Now, leave me and Pitch out of whatever stupid idea you’re planning!” He snarled, aiming the crook at the fallen adversary.

The cloaked figure rose to his feet, like pulled by puppeteer’s strings: jerky and unstable. It took a moment before the Nightmare King’s pose was back to his usual confident stature, if but a bit like the peeved cat he occasionally resembled. “Oh, I intend to leave you out of it.” That low voice mumbled, still able to make Jack shiver. Just as another biting retort came to mind a howl pierced the woods around them. Jack’s first instinct was to look around the tree line to his left, right, then behind him. It was unlike any animal he knew, almost like a haunted wail or a bellow of a horn. When he looked straight ahead, the boogeyman was nowhere in sight.

“Hey!” Jack called, taking steps across the frozen lake, eyes on shadows and staff pointed ahead of him like a spear. After a few steps, soft cracks sounded after every next footstep. Ignoring the crackling of ice likely spiking off from the rickety staff or under his own steps, he continued across the lake—nearly halfway now. Another, louder crack gave and frigid water lapped at his feet, drenching his sock. He yelped, pulling the staff closer to patch the hole. Looking down, his muscles stopped in place, staring into ice blue eyes, just beneath the surface of the ice. The ice gave another warning creak, before something sharp, firm, and cold grasped at his ankle, tugged, and let the breaking ice swallow him.

**Author's Note:**

> Jackson Overland has a Tumblr  
> http://frostsicle.tumblr.com/
> 
> Chapter Updates are posted and fan's work or asks are put up. Keep an eye out for other ROTG fics of mine


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